


Daddy Issues

by SexySourAlpha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: And a lot more kinks I don't want to give away, BDSM, But Sterek Is Endgame, Comeplay, Crossdressing Kink, Dom/sub, M/M, Rough Sex, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SexySourAlpha/pseuds/SexySourAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles fucking likes sex. He loves sex. So sue him. And if he can get paid for it…why not? He sucks a cock or two…or <em>five</em> and makes a thousand bucks in a night.</p><p>Where Stiles is a prostitute and everyone see's whats wrong with this except for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Respect

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I had read a few prostitute!Stiles fics and none of them really hit the spots that I felt needed to be hit. So why not do it myself right?  
> This fic wont be too long. Maybe ten chapters max.

Stiles is a prostitute.

Yeah, that’s right, he sucks dick and gets fucked for a living.

It’s not like he hadn’t looked around for other jobs before settling on this one. But after being fired from his previous job by his ex-boyfriends father, _thanks a fucking lot Joseph_ , it was the only “job” that would ring in enough money to pay for his expenses and bills.

And he has _lots_ of bills that needed to be paid, from college tuition, books for classes and not to mention the giant bill that’s being held over his head from a car accident from years ago. And he’s not going to ask his dad for help. So yeah, he sells himself.

 

It’s _just_ sex.

 

And Stiles fucking likes sex.

He loves sex.

 So sue him. And if he can get paid for it…why not? He sucks a cock or two…or five and makes close to a thousand bucks in a night. In the beginning he worked the street; getting on his knees in dark wet alleys, giving sloppy handjobs in the back of musty sedans. But he’s all about customer service, and a few guys who frequented his area that became regulars.

 

These are the guys who he’ll meet at their homes or in seedy motel rooms. All of them have their kinks and weird little fucked up things that they like to do to him. Smack him around a bit while they fuck him, dress him up in clothes that are too small and make him watch TV in their laps. Hell, he even has a guy who likes to see how much vanilla ice cream he can eat in one sitting while naked.  

Stiles isn’t above any of it, he just makes sure to charge accordingly.

Tonight he was with Chris.

Chris was probably in his late thirties or early forties, salt and pepper, electric blue eyes. He didn’t frequent Stiles’ street often, but when he did… _boy did he ever_. Chris liked to be rough in bed. Rough was Stiles’ favorite type of sex to have. But Chris was borderline _abusive_. But he was paying to be rough, so Stiles dealt with it.

 

“Say it.” Chris growled, slamming his cock into Stiles’ sensitive hole, going a little _too_ deep, hitting that spot in Stiles that made his whole body shiver. He pulled out and fucked in again when Stiles hid his face in a pillow as he bit down on the soft cotton; the force made him jump and whimper, trying to move away, but failing as Chris held his hips in a vice grip.

  _Sensory overload_.

 They had been going for two hours now and Stiles was pretty fucked out- _not that Chris cared or anything_.

 “Fuck… _shit_ , could you just-” Stiles gasped before being fucked into the large headboard again. They had started at the edge of the bed with Chris taking things nice and slow; like he always did at first. By the second hour Chris had rode Stiles up the bed. His back pressed awkward and achingly into the wood as Chris pushed his legs back by his ears.

Stiles couldn’t thank the double jointed gods enough for his flexibility. He had an inkling feeling that this guy would’ve _broken_ him into the position; if push came to shove.

“I said _say it_!” Chris growled again as he slapped Stiles across the face, not too hard but hard enough for Stiles to know the next one wouldn’t be so restrained. He caved.

“Fuck… _fuck me_.” Stiles gasped out, the feeling of teetering on the line of pain and pleasure was going straight down to his dick making it jump against his stomach.

“Fuck me, _what_?” the older man demanded as he rocked into Stiles again, leaning over to suck another bruise into his neck. Their bodies were slick, _hot_ with sweat, their hair damp and bodies flushed. The smell of sex and expensive cologne permeated the room, the air intoxicatingly thick.

“Daddy…fu-fuck me, _please_ Daddy?” Stiles choked, grasping at the bed sheets. It was pretty hard to speak while the oxygen was being fucked out of him. But Chris must have heard him because his speed picked up, causing Stiles to moan louder than he would have liked when he felt Chris’ cock rut against the bundle of nerves inside of him.

Yeah. That’s right. I’m your fuckin daddy baby.” Chris groaned into his ear

 

Chris wasn’t the typical trick. Sure, Stiles had run into a few married men…ok, _a lot of them._ But they never came back more than twice. The first time Stiles met Chris he thought he could tell his type.

Chris had been in the driver's’ seat twisting his wedding band nervously around his finger, looking around the dark street tensely. Stiles figured him to be the typical closeted married man. He didn't have that pressed for time attitude, so Stiles assumed his family was away. He seemed pretty kind too.  

All of that changed once they got inside of their motel room. Of, course.

Of course a guy out buying ass wouldn't be who he was in his everyday life with, Stiles.

He said things he'd _never_ say outside the motel walls.

He did all the things to Stiles that he could _never_ do to his wife.

 _Would_ never do to his wife.

Because he respected her.

Chris called him things he'd never call her. Chris was rough with Stiles, _brutal_ even. Also a bit of a sadist… _ok, very much a sadist._ It was so bad Stiles had to schedule other clients around him. It would take about a week for the bruises around his neck and on his hips to fade.

Marks on his face only took a few days and his bones needed rest more than anything, after being pulled, twisted and _contorted_ to fit whatever shape Chris desired.

Stiles would like to see _anyone_ else try to hold their legs behind their head while someone fucks into them for a complete hour. _Not so easy._

Basically. He worked hard for his money.

 

Don’t get him wrong, Stiles _loved_ rough sex. But Chris wasn't just "rough sex". He was backbreaking, face smacking, throat biting, hair pulling _rough sex_.

And it only got worse after he gave his name. Stiles asked for names to gain a false connection with his clients, establishing familiarity. Even if they gave a fake name he used it to the best of his ability. Groaning and moaning their names as they fucked him. Gasping and crooning it as he came, as he made _them_ come…in his mouth, on his back; sometimes his fucking hair. It just brought them back for more. Just to hear him all over again. Hey, he had his tricks, and he used them.

Chris had been reluctant at first, claiming that names would make things _too_ familiar. Because yeah, forcing his dick down Stiles’ throat totally wasn't something people did when they wanted to get familiar with one another.

 

Eventually Chris gave in, not that it mattered. His fixation with Stiles calling him _Daddy_ relinquished the use of his actual name.

Stiles hated it, but whatever made his clients happy made his pockets happy. And that was good enough for him.

“You like it when Daddy fucks you like this, hunh? Like a little slut?” Chris rasped, pulling Stiles down off the headboard and forcing his feet behind his head again. He was _definitely_ going to be sore in the morning.

“I asked you a question, _baby_.” Chris whispered threateningly when Stiles didn’t answer quick enough.

“Yeah, I-I like it.. _AH!_ ”

What felt like two fingers pushed into his already filled hole next to Chris’ cock, stretching him wider.

“Does that hurt? Too much for you?” Chris purred as he ran his fingers through Stiles’ sweat damp hair, cooing terms of endearment as if he actually didn't _like_ hurting him. Stiles really wanted this over with, so he was going to pull out all the stops.

“Yes, it hurts daddy. It fucking _hurts_ so good. Daddy I-”

He smirked to himself when he saw Chris’ lashes flutter and the bright blue of his eyes get blown out by the black of his pupils.

Chris’ thrusts became harder and deeper. Dragging against Stiles’ inner walls, reveling in the tightness of his muscles when he drew himself out and then grunting loudly as he pushed his cock back in.

“Yeah, Daddy j-just like that.”

“I'm gonna fucking come.” Chris groaned

“Come in my mou-” Stiles’ dirty little request was cut short by a strong hand clasping over his mouth.

“You're such a fucking _whore_.” Chris growled as he unhooked Stiles’ legs from behind his head, bending down and biting on top of an _already_ blooming bruise on the younger man's throat. Obviously, ignoring Stiles’ demand as he kept fucking his ass until he came deep inside of him with a roar.

Then, just like always Chris pulled out of him a little too fast, shoved his legs away and got out of bed. Stiles watched him while taking heavy huffs as he pulled his filled condom off and threw it into the small trashcan near the bathroom.

“It’s a bit early. You've got another hour left.” Stiles said smugly, doing his best to appear more than ready for another round, although his muscles were screaming bloody murder. If Chris saw him sweating, he'd go out of his way for another fuck. He was awful that way.

 

“You know what you did.” Chris called out to him from the bathroom.

 

“What?” Stiles shouted back, flopping back into the motel bed, pulling a pillow between his legs

 “Let you bend me into a fucking pretzel? I'm pretty sure I've let you do that before!” Stiles yelled back. The sound of a shower starting was his cue to get dressed, Chris never went for another round after showering. He dressed and sat halfway on the bed avoiding anywhere around his hole, waiting for Chris to come out and pay him.

He had slipped up and let Chris get his session in without paying him first, but that wouldn't happen again.

 

When Chris came out of the shower he was sporting another erection and Stiles cursed to himself, he _really_ just wanted to go home and sleep. He and Chris had already been going at it for two hours. And by the look on Chris’ face they weren't done _just_ yet.  Fucking Lucifer, that was his name.

“Come suck my dick.” Chris demanded as he pointed down to his throbbing eight inches.

“I thought we were done.” Stiles sighed as he rolled his eyes. Chris’ expression didn’t budge.

“I have another hour don’t I? Now come. suck. my. _fucking_ dick.” Chris practically ordered, as if Stiles was a dog. His brows rising as if to say ‘what the fuck is your problem?’

Stiles’ _problem_ was that he wanted to fucking sleep. But he needed this money from Chris so he shrugged off his jacket and walked over to the naked and dripping man who smelled of nothing but tap water and skin.

Stiles carried scentless soap with him just for his married clients, to not draw attention from their wives when they came home smelling soapy and fresh. Yeah, it was wrong. To _willingly_ sleep with married men.

To help them cheat, make it _easier_.

But if they got caught, that affected _his_ income. And he couldn’t have that. So he did what he had to do. He could practically see his special place in hell if he stared at the floor hard enough.

He rolled his eyes as he lowered himself onto his knees in front of Chris, muttering something about rude assholes before he did as he was told. Chris had to have heard him because he fucked Stiles’ throat for most of the remaining hour.

 

Yup, an _asshole_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are greatly appreciated, inspiring...and pretty! 
> 
> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	2. Could We...Not?

“Stiles seriously dude you have to stop this!” Scott yelled when Stiles tumbled through the door.

Scott was getting sick of this. At least once every two weeks Stiles came stumbling through _their_ apartment door; covered in bruises and reeking of alcohol. When it first began he immediately tried to intervene, tried to show Stiles that the life he was living wasn’t healthy, that it was unnecessary. But even _attempting_ to talk to Stiles about it never went well.

So he just dealt with it.

Stiles could barely stand on his feet, wobbling and fumbling; he would’ve brained himself on the kitchen counter if Scott hadn’t been there to catch him.

 

“Do you have any fucking clue what time it is?” Scott barked at Stiles, lifting his arm and carrying his weight on his shoulder, guiding him to his bedroom.

Stiles burped and smirked before chuckling. “Y’need to chill dude, this isn’t f- _first_ time I’ve-”

“ _Exactly_ , Stiles! It isn’t the first time you’ve came in covered in fucking bruises and drunk! I’ve lost count!” Scott yelled, pushing Stiles off onto his bed. He was helping Stiles take off his jacket when he caught the sudden change of attitude in Stiles’ face. And he braced himself for _it_.

 _It_ had happened countless times, Scott knew what happened next, the accusations, the _anger_.

“ _What,_ Scott? Sick f’sportin me? Huh? Sick of being friends with uh whore? Hunh?” Stiles’ voice was raspy, breaking with every other word he spoke. Scott sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was getting old, he loved Stiles. He was like a brother, but he wasn’t going to sit here and watch him destroy himself.

“No Stiles, that’s not what I said-”

A hand that smelled heavily of whiskey clasped over his mouth, even in the darkness of the room he could see the flush rising up from Stiles’ collar.

“Say it Scott! Y’think I’m a-a fuckin _whore_. Cause I let people fuck me for money!” Scott, grimaced and pulled the fumbling hand away from his face; Stiles continued with a drunken giggle.

“Did you know I...I let some guy fuck my throat for an hour today? But I made six-… _was it six hundred?_ ” Stiles laughed drunkenly.

 

Scott exhaled heavily and moved to help Stiles get his shoes off while he tried to tune him out which was pretty hard to do considering, Stiles was very loudly voicing his drunken feelings.

“You _hate_ me Scott, j-just like my dad. ‘Shamed of me. Y’know everyone always said _I_ was the s-smart one, until... _well_... Nope!” he shouted. “I’m not so smart Scott.”

Scott had just taken off Stiles’ other sneaker and was now pulling his pants off. Glad Stiles opted even in his drunkenness to not delve too deep into their past.

“Woah! _Woah!_ Scotty boy! Gotta pay me f- _firs_ ’! Th- _then_ we can do whatever you want.” Stiles yawned.

Scott took Stiles’ pants and threw them on the floor beside the bed. He averted his gaze from the blue and yellow bruises on Stiles’ inner thigh and pulled the comforter from under his body.

“I’m not tired Scott! I’m not! _Look_!” Stiles shouted, sluggishly clapping his hands together in the air, _loudly_ , like those wind up cymbal holding monkeys. Scott thanked god their neighbors had gone off for vacation or he’s pretty sure they'd have called the cops with how loud Stiles was being.

He slipped Stiles’ legs under the sheets and pulled the comforter up; covering him. He shoved a pillow under Stiles’ head and took a step back. “Ok Stiles, time for bed dude.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Scott, you _never_ listen; I said I'm not sleepy.”

Scott sighed, “Just close your eyes and count backwards from ten buddy”.

Stiles nodded. With that he left the room, and slipped back into his own bed. He could hear Stiles slowly and _drunkenly_ counting back from ten in the next room. He was having a hard time getting down from seven; by the time he made it to three he had fallen asleep.

 

He wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning.

* * *

Stiles didn't want to be late to class.

Of course he was anyway; his hangover had really done a number on him.

 

Talk about morning sickness.

If it had been up to him he wouldn't have come in at all; but he couldn't allow anything to get in the way of his studies, even his _job_. That’s why he was doing all of this to begin with right?

 

When he ran down the hall and reached the door of his Folklore & Mythology class he grabbed the doorknob to find the door locked. _Fucking great_. Through the small window of the door he could see some of the students, who actually made it to class on time, look his way.

His teacher Professor Hale also averted his attention to the door and gestured for the class to wait for him. Stiles groaned and leaned back against the wall, across from the door; out of the way of the small window. He didn't need people looking at him as if they'd never fucking seen a person arrive late to class before.

The door to the classroom opened and Professor Hale in all his glory stepped through the threshold. He was dressed down today. Wearing a white Henley with the three buttons left undone, some well-fitting blue jeans and sneakers. Professor Hale was one of the youngest professors in the school and the most attractive.

“Late again Stilinski…what’s the excuse this time?” he asked as he folded his arms and leaned against the wall parallel to Stiles.

“I’m sorry. I woke up late. I had a really rough night last night, you know? And-”

“A _rough_ night?” Hale asked, furrowing his brows. Stiles sucked his teeth and ran his hands groggily down his face. His entire body was aching and he had only taken one Tylenol because apparently only fifty came in a bottle and he was down to his last one. _He didn't need this right now._

“Look, _Peter_ I said I'm sorry. You know why I'm late.” Stiles knew that he fucked up as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Peter stepped out of his place against the wall and crowded into Stiles’ space.

“What did I tell you about that?” Peter whispered coolly.

“I-I’m sorry…sir.” Stiles said, his heart beating heavily under Peter’s piercing gaze. A warm hand grazed over the collar of his black turtleneck, under his jaw and lifted his head.  Stiles practically whimpered when Peter’s fingers slowly pulled the collar down, revealing his bruises.

“What did I tell you about letting them do this to you?” Peter asked calmly as he inspected under the collar of the turtle neck fingers trailing over Stiles’ neck and collarbone, pressing into the bruises. Stiles moaned unabashedly. “I-I...I forgot.”

“You've been _forgetting_ a lot of things lately Stiles” Peter said hotly, placing a chaste kiss on the side of Stiles’ mouth.

This was something that Stiles only allowed from Peter. Kissing is not a thing he did with clients. He had to keep _some_ type of virtue.

Ok, so maybe he kissed their dicks…but never on the mouth. Nowhere near the mouth. Too romantic right? _Suggestive_?

But Peter was different. He and Peter were… _more_ than what he was with the rest of his clients. This is why Stiles leaned into the kiss. This is why he opened his mouth and allowed Peter’s to slot over his own and suck on his tongue. The kiss became fiery and passionate quickly. With Peter pushing Stiles into the wall, biting and sucking on his top lip.

“Fuck yes…” Stiles moaned when he felt firm hands grasp his ass. He took his own hand and snaked it up into Peter’s hair, grazing his scalp with his fingertips. Suddenly Peter’s hands were gone along with the warm firm body that had been pinning him to the wall.

“Go to the restroom. Fix yourself and then come to class. I have a room full of students who _want_ to learn waiting for me. ” Peter said. Stiles nodded lazily, the heady air of arousal still filling his head; allowing him to ignore Peter's jab. “And do not touch yourself.”

That garnered his attention, “ _Please_ can I? I'll let you put the gag on me”

“Funny how you say _"let"_ as if you have a choice.” 

“You're such a fucking cocktease man.” Stiles groaned as he turned around and headed to the restroom to _not_ jerk off. Of course with everything in life, going to the restroom wouldn't be easy. It was pretty far from Peter’s classroom seeing as how there wasn't a fucking restroom on the floor his class was held.

After his adventure down a flight of the _ridiculous_ amount of steps leading to the bottom floor, he made it to the lobby. It was empty except for a few girls sitting comfortably in the lounge area studying notes from their index cards.

As he expected for an early morning, the restroom was empty. Luckily enough for him. He splashed some cool water on his face to wipe out the last bit of drunkenness from his body. He stood in front of the mirror and pulled down the collar of his black turtleneck to see the damage again. He knew his bruises were bad, but they had gotten a little worse from when he last looked at them.

The yellow had now faded to purple, and had turned into one big blotch on the side of his neck. He'd have to Google ways to get rid of bruises faster because this wouldn’t be conventional for his line of work.

 

He jumped a bit when he heard footsteps coming into the restroom, quickly pulling the collar of his turtle neck up when he turned to see who it was sighed in relief.

His boyfriend Danny,

“Woah! Hey babe, wasn’t expecting to see you here!” Stiles said cheerily, forcing a smile. He and Danny had been dating for about six months now. Danny was one of; if not the greatest guy Stiles had ever been with. Not to mention how cute he was. Danny couldn't speak to him without him swooning. The dimples in his cheeks held the power of a thousand baby puppies and Stiles just _couldn’t_. It was too much.

Danny, of course, smiled brightly seeing Stiles and shifted on his heel towards him. Stiles wrapped his arm around Danny’s neck and pulled him in for a soft sensual kiss. Something he didn't get a lot of. The soft brush of lips, as they soothingly moved against each other. The _slow_ suckling feeling of their tongues dancing sweetly in each other’s mouths. Just, soft and gentle. Sweet.

“Come on Stiles, we…have-to stop…someone could…walk...in.” Danny tried to warn as Stiles kept pulling his face back in for more of his sweet kisses.

“No one’s going to come in.” Stiles whispered hotly into Danny’s ear as he spread his legs wider to pull Danny in closer. And this is when Danny pulled away laughing.

“ _Woah!_ Ok, Stiles. We…” he looked around quickly “ _can't_ do this in a public restroom.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. And slipped his hand under Danny’s orange polo shirt to run his hands over the smooth, hard abs that were hiding underneath. _Seriously_ , Danny was a solid ten.

“Oh please,” he scoffed, “remember when we fucked in your swim team’s locker room?”

Stiles guided his hand down to Danny’s crotch, caressing it. His grade A sexual advances were stopped again when Danny grabbed his wrist.

“ _Jesus_ , Stiles! I said we can’t. We got lucky that time in the locker room. Not to mention Coach Finstock came in _two minutes_ after we finished.” He sighed. “Look, later on we can do whatever you want, ok babe?”

Leave it to Danny to be the logical one. Always making sense, something Stiles didn't have anymore. Stiles had loosened him up a bit since they had gotten together but Danny was still pretty vanilla. Don’t get him wrong. He cherishes Danny’s vanilla. Especially during the times he takes two weeks off from his “job”, that Danny knows _absolutely nothing_ about, to just relax and kind of live like a normal person.

 

“ _Fine_ …ok. But I'll see you tonight right?” he asked sliding off the sink he had lift himself onto, putting his backpack back on.

Danny, grabbed his hips and kissed his forehead, “Yeah, definitely, now go before you're late to class. I heard Hale is a dick when he wants to be.” He kissed Stiles one last time before going over to a urinal.

“You have no idea.” Stiles said coyly before leaving the restroom; heading going back to his class.

 

Stiles was finishing the last of his notes on the different states of cultural aspects when Peter finished his lecture. Of course at the _slightest_ sign of Peter being done people started packing their books and journals. The sound of rustling papers, bags being unzipped and the tearing of velcro filling the large classroom was obnoxious.

“I guess saying _class dismissed_ would be pointless now?” Peter laughed and received few ‘woops!’ and snobby rolling of the eyes from the students who just wanted to head back to their beds. Stiles stayed seated, doodling in the back of his journal to make it seem as if he was still writing down notes while the classroom emptied.

When he looked up he saw three enthusiastically speaking students crowding around Peter. He caught a few things they were saying like _“You're the best professor…”_ and “ _When you started speaking about the history of the Salem Witch Trials I just couldn't look away”_.

He laughed to himself at Peter's adoring fans and began stuffing his things into his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and walking down the steps to the speaking floor; where Peter stood finally ending his conversation with the _passionate_ students, waving to them as they walked out the door. Stiles quick stepped over to the door and locked it before any other students could come in, having forgotten the assigned work or just wanting to kiss Peter's ass for a bit longer.

He pulled down the small curtain that was built into the doors to prevent distractions from the annual best friend who got kicks out of standing in the doorway and making stupid faces at their friends in class, with hopes of pulling a laugh or two out of them during a lecture.

Except, the class was empty.

Excluding Stiles and Peter.

He turned to see Peter leaning back against the front of his desk with his arms folded and his legs crossed.

“And what exactly are you doing Stilinski?” he asked raising a brow in interest.

Stiles shrugged his shoulders faintly, letting his bag fall to the floor as he strolled over to Peter. “I just thought…we could use some alone time”. He said, stopping his stroll in front of the older man.

Peter unfolded his arms and stationed them on either side of the desk behind him. Stiles couldn't take it. The slight dust of fine hairs, slightly showing from the open collar of his white Henley, his heavy blue intelligent eyes. He wanted him and he wanted him _now_. He pushed Peter back so that he was sitting on the table and climbed on top of him so that he was sitting in the older man's lap.

“Stiles this is my _workplace_.” Peter protested. Stiles ignored him, snaking his hand around Peter’s neck, snaking his fingers slowly into his silky dark hair as he leaned in for a kiss. He took Peter’s mouth with his own. He knew that what he was doing would get him in trouble but he didn't care.

He kept wetly kissing into and against Peter’s lips. Hungrily sucking at his jawline, as he snuck his other hand down Peter’s arm; grabbing his hand and slipping it under his own shirt.

“I want you to suck on my nipples, _baby_.” He murmured while mouthing at the skin behind Peter’s ear, where he could smell a hint of cologne. He knew better than to leave any bruises on Peter’s skin, but if he did _accidently_ it wouldn't be seen here.

Peter was seemingly unaffected by Stiles' gestures;

“I want you to stop being late to my class, we can't always get what we want now…can we?” Peter asked; a mocking smile on his face. Stiles pouted.

“Come on, you _have_ to give me this. My boyfriend wouldn't even let me suck him off in the restroom today.” he whined, licking his way back into the older man's mouth, before having his chin gripped and face pushed up to look in the older man's eyes.

“What have I told you about speaking to me about… _others_?” Peter whispered, the threat not directly spoken, but present all the same. What should have scared Stiles only made him hornier.

“At least they _fuck_ _me_ when I ask them to.” 

Stiles knew he was pushing his luck. Peter was one of his few clients who were into the whole BDSM dom/sub thing. But this guy was really into it, _heavily_. And Stiles didn’t mind. He had a thing for Peter. Peter treated him differently than the typical trick. He treated Stiles like he was glass, something that could easily be broken.

That only _he_ was allowed to break.

Stiles grinned against Peter’s neck when he felt a strong hand slip into the back of his pants and into his briefs. “ _That’s_ what I'm talking about big boy.”

“You are absolutely… _corny_.” Peter growled.

 

Stiles was going to come back with a witty remark when he jerked forward and hissed at the completely un-lubed finger that forced itself into his sore hole.

“ _Shit!_ Peter what the fuck!?” He growled through clenched teeth as he tried to move away from the unwelcomed finger, failing as Peter held him in place.

“I am not one of your _toys_ to be played with Stiles. I think you may have forgotten that.” Peter purred, gazing into Stiles’ frown.

“I-I’m sorry I just…”

“Just what?”

“Just…wanted _you_ … _sir_.” Stiles hissed, feeling Peter’s finger curling inward.

“Is today my day?” Peter tested.

“N-no sir but… _ah!_ ” he gasped, dropping his head onto Peter’s shoulder. Peter had pulled his finger out and pushed it back in, adding a second.

Peter pressed his nose into Stiles’ hair, “You feel...  _looser_. I thought you said you didn't do groups?”

“Sir, I don- _fuck_!” Stiles yelped when Peter did it _again_. Stiles knew that Chris had done a number on him yesterday but he hadn't known he would be _this_ sensitive…and _'loose'_.

Stiles didn't blush easily…but Peter bluntly calling him out on how loose he was, was,… _embarrassing_. So of course he started blushing, and being pale didn’t exactly hide it.

 

“Answer, my question Stiles?” Peter requested again, brushing his face against Stiles’ neck like a cat begging for attention.

“I…I don't do groups; a client of mine…it was just _one_ guy, I let him fuck me sir, like I always do. He's rough.”

“Did you like it? When he was rough with you?” Peter inquired, his other hand slipping around Stiles’ waist, into the back of his pants and under his briefs alongside the other.

“Please Peter, I don't want to talk about anyone el- _AH!_ ”

"Now you wish not to speak of your rendezvous?"

Another finger pushed in beside the other two, massaging the walls of his anus.

“Sir, this hurts.” Stiles moaned, turning his head and burying his face in Peter’s throat.

“You seem to be liking it.”  Peter hummed, pulling one hand away from Stiles’ ass and wrapping it around his cock, that he had no clue was erect, _and aching_ with how full and hard it was.

“C-can you jerk me off Sir? Please?” Stiles moaned again. His legs were shaking and his breath was catching in his throat. Peter could always make him feel like this. Wind him up like a spring until he was nice and tight, straining, creaking under pressure until he broke.

Peter simply nodded against Stiles’ shoulder and tugged on the sensitive skin around the younger man’s dick. Pulling it down slowly, then quickly tugging it back up. Catching a bead of pre-come on his thumb and leisurely grazing it around the rim of the swollen head.

“ _Fuck_ , Peter I-” Stiles stuttered, fucking into Peter’s fist uncontrollably. His movements causing Peter’s desk to creak as it shifted back and forth.

“Don’t come yet.” Peter muttered as he pushed the rest of his finger into Stiles searching for his prostate. He also picked up the pace on Stiles cock focusing on the head as he magically, _somehow_ , massaged the large vein under it with the bottom of his palm.

“Fuck! It’s like you w- _want_ me to come,” Stiles squeaked, “I can’t sir. I fuckin… _oh god,_ I’m gonna-”

Stiles felt a warm heat in his stomach curl up, his balls drawing close as his ass clenched around Peter’s fingers, and then… _nothing_.

Peter let go.

Stiles cursed and tried to thrust his crotch into Peter desperate for friction, only to have Peter restrain him by the waist.

“No, no, no! _Please,_ sir let me come. _Please_. I’ll…I’ll suck you off just let me-”

 Peter chuckled.

“Oh, Stiles. Stop begging, you're too beautiful to beg. This is your punishment.” Peter chuckled, patting him on the ass and shifting to move himself from under Stiles.  Stiles clenched his jaw and pounded his fist into the wood of the desk.

“Why doesn't _anyone_ want me to come?! What did I do?” he asked, turning himself over and dropping his head in his hands.

Peter, walked around behind his desk and opened a drawer,

“I told you about coming to me with bruises and speaking about your tricks. And you did _both_ today Stiles. Not to mention you're loose. So your punishment is not being allowed to come by _my_ hand until you're nice and tight for me again. Let this be a lesson learned.” He said in that calm and collected tone Stiles _hates_ as he wiped the pre-come off his hands with a tissue from the box of Kleenex on his desk.

 

“I wasn't even going to charge you for this” Stiles whined, flailing his arms. Peter looked up at him with a peculiar look on his face.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“We _both_ know that this wasn't about money.” Peter said, Stiles went to say something but was cut off “And it wasn't about _me_ either.”

Stiles’ furrowed his brows and narrowed his eyes. Was Peter really about to do this right now?

“Are you _really_ about to do this right now?”

“When’s the last time you spoke to your father? “ Peter asked looking at Stiles from under his lashes. Stiles gaped, and his frown deepened. 

…Apparently he was.

“I don’t know? When’s the last time you _fucked_ his son?” he retorted

Peter nodded. “Ok. I deserved that.”

“Yeah. _You did_.” Stiles muttered snatching up his bag and heading for the door.

“ _Stiles_.”

“No!” Stiles yelled whipping around “This had _nothing_ to do with him. And I'm pretty sure if he _wanted_ to fucking speak to me he would call me. _Clearly,_ he doesn’t. So don’t. Ok?” he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

 

 What was it? _Piss Stiles Off_ Day?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	3. Café

"I'll take a...pumpkin spice latte...and uh, extra whipped cream...oh and cream. Thanks." Stiles said to the barista taking his order in the small café just a few blocks away from his and Scott's apartment.

Luckily in the city there were small family owned businesses everywhere. This café happened to be a small gem he & Scott had run across when they first moved into the area. The coffee, tea & other beverages were amazing, and the customer service was some of the best he'd ever encountered.

"Sarah will bring it over to you in about…” she looked at her wristwatch, “five minutes." the barista named Stephanie said, smiling at him. He returned the smile, before sitting at an empty table with two seats in front of a wall length window that gave a nice view of the street and people walking by.

 

He was expecting Erica to arrive soon. He called her because he needed someone to talk to and Scott definitely wasn't someone he was going to talk to about his problems. Scott wasn't a big fan of his at the moment, with reason. And Stiles didn't want to damage their relationship more than he already had with his choice of work, drinking and late night habits.

He usually almost always went to Lydia with his problems. But he hadn't told her about his “job”. And he didn't plan on it. Lydia was a gift, she truly was. They’d known each other since they were kids. She had always been able to tell him what he needed to hear. Not sugarcoating anything and usually coming up with a solution before she ran out of cookies and tea to give him.

But Lydia had a tendency to be...judgmental. Not able to give advice without dragging him and his choices through the mud, unforgivingly. And that's not what he needed right now. He’s very aware of his fucked up life choices and he doesn’t want it thrown back in his face. He just needs someone to listen. To vent to.

He wasn't so much as looking for answers, as much he was looking for an ear.

So why not Erica?

She was someone who hadn't known Stiles until he moved to the city. She liked to live on the edge, do things first and think about the consequences later. Her ‘not give a fuck’ attitude seemed like a pretty neat foundation to lay his burdens down on.

Seeing as how she wouldn't give a fuck.

 

The door to the café swung open with a bang and a very visibly fuming Erica stood in the doorway, eyes taking in the small café before she spotting Stiles. After stomping over, violently pulling out the seat in front of Stiles and dropping into it with folded arms. She huffed.

 

Ok, so maybe she needed an ear too.

"You won't fucking believe what just happened!” She shouted, garnering even more attention from the few people occupying different corners of the café.

 

"Uuhhhh, ok...what happened?" Stiles asked, a confused frown masking his face.

"I fucking broke my nail smacking Timothy" she growled looking at her heavily chipped acrylic nail. They were painted blood red, a match to the lipstick she was sporting. The color stood out loudly against the white cardigan she wore over a very revealing teal v-necked shirt.

"Timothy?" Stiles questioned, as he took his pumpkin flavored beverage from Sarah who was trying her damnedest not to look at Erica. Stiles could understand her weariness, Erica was a terrifying beauty. Beautiful. But terrifying.

"This guy I'm talking to,” she mumbled “never mind me though! What's up with you?" She said with a smile leaning back comfortably in her seat.

Stiles exhaled, taking a long look down into his drink.

"I'm cheating on Danny.” He said softly before flicking his eyes up to see Erica's expression. She didn't look any different than she had a few seconds ago. Calm, cool and collected.

 

"Ok...and?" She said shrugging her shoulders.

Stiles' brows knitted together and he sucked the inside of his cheek before speaking again. Slower this time, because she had to have misheard him. "Erica...I'm cheating on Danny...at least, I think."

"How do you think you're cheating on him? Either you are or you aren't." she said, stealing his pumpkin spice latte from across the table and taking a long sip.

Stiles rolled his eyes, he hadn’t planned on going into any further detail with her. But fuck it, he wasn’t  ashamed of his lifestyle. "Maybe because I'm a p-...people pay me to have sex with them." He whispered, stealing his drink back.

"You're a gigolo? Sweet." The blonde laughed, grinning while running her tongue over her teeth.

"...Y-you could call it that." He agreed.

"Oh, I see. You were gonna say a prostitute. Meh, same thing." she shrugged.

"Wait so you don't care?" he asked leaning in; he knew Erica wasn’t the average person, but most people wouldn’t take news like this so easily.

 

Erica’s brows drew together, "I'm not your boyfriend Stiles, no I don't care. What you do with your body is your business...though I doubt Der-"

 

"Do not! Please don't, just..." Stiles said holding out his arms for Erica to not continue...but of course she would ignore his plea.

"What? All I was going to say is that Derek wouldn't approve."

"Derek can suck my dick. And you don’t know him like I do." he growled.

"Hasn't he?" Erica laughed, "And, whatever, I think I’ve known you both long enough?"

"You haven’t, known us long enough. Maybe calling you was a mistake." Stiles said taking a long sip as he looked out the window, watching random faces pass by.

"Stiles, I'm...sorry."

"Yeah, right." he muttered as he continued to stare out the window.

There was a moment of silence and then a heavy sigh before Erica continued.

"I would say that...yeah, you're cheating on him. Danny I mean, especially with him not knowing. You could even be putting him at risk." she said calmly.

Stiles tore his vision away from the window, looking Erica square in the eye,

"I'm clean. I get checked regularly and I always use condoms." he said quickly.

Erica just shrugged. "Okay."

 

Stiles sat back in his chair, hands wrapped around his drink. "I just...I don't want to be alone and by myself after these guys are done...using me. I’ve been through that. I want to know that there's someone who actually wants me for me."

Erica nods.

"Danny, really likes me. A lot. I can tell. But I'm not as invested as he is...but," he paused, biting on his bottom lip softly as he thought "but..."

"But he's good company." Erica finished for him, running her fingers through her long golden curls and sighing.

"You're judging me." He said, looking away from her.

 

"I'm not fucking judging you, Stiles. You're judging you. You know what you sound like."

"I'm not a dick." He grumbled.

“No, you aren’t,” she agreed, "you're a prostitute who's fucking what I could only assume to be multiple guys." she yawned, actually fucking yawned "And you haven't told Danny a thing. If any of these guys know him, I'm pretty sure they're laughing at him. They're fucking his boyfriend."

Stiles looked down again into his drink again. "So I'll break up with him."

"So someone knows?"

"I don’t…ugh, yes! Someone knows Erica." He confessed

At this she perks up. "Who?"

"I'm not telling you." He snaps.

"Tell me! Tell me!" She shouts, attracting attention again.

"No!" He whispers loudly.

"Do I know him?"

"..No."

"You fucking liar I know him!" She says flashing a gigantic smile.

"Erica, please stop."

"I'll hand out your number to every bum in this city if you don't tell me." she laughs...but he knows she's serious.

"You'll...hate me if I tell you" he says softly looking away again, this of course doesn't faze her. He doesn't really care that much about her knowing. For reasons.

"I doubt that.” She says leaning in, “Tell me!"

He sighs, "My mythology professor."

Erica gaped like a fish, "You're fucking your professor? Danny has the same professor?"

"No! No! We don't have the same professor but Danny knows who he is and vice versa." Danny would never take mythology, luckily enough for Stiles' insanity.

Erica shook her head, "You're one sick kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	4. Full

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me forever and a day to write this.
> 
> Try to really get into the words...

Stiles stepped out of the mirror paneled elevator at the top floor and into a very prestigious looking hallway.

 

It was one of those hallways that made it seem as if it could also be a living area; it smelt of some type of fruity air freshener. Warm wooden floors, a rich cream colored rug streaming down the hallway, beautiful greenery intricately placed. A very comfortable setting to say the least, one where everyone on the floor probably visited each other in pajamas late at night and asked the other if they wanted to come over for a drink of coffee or something. Rich people shit

 

But not this client. Nope.

This client was a complete asshole who probably threw hot coffee in his neighbor's faces. He would never casually stroll the halls of this homey hallway and visit a neighbor for anything other than to complain about their music being too loud or for them to 'shut their goddamn baby up'.

A typical rich spoiled brat.

 

His good looks didn't make his attitude any better, at all. He was an arrogant narcissist with mirrors all over his condominium; Stiles swore he had even seen his reflection in the floor once. Though his looks didn't make his attitude better, it definitely made him easier to deal with. Because who didn't like getting fucked by gorgeous men?

 

Not Stiles.

 

After trudging down the hall he knocked on the white door with the gold condo number 667 on it. How funny, one number away from Satan, almost fitting.

The door didn't open after a few minutes but Stiles was sure that the little asshole had to be home. So he knocked again.

“Hold on you dickwipe!” came an irritated voice through the door.

 

Stiles sighed at the insult and folded his arms waiting impatiently until the door opened. When it finally did open his client, Jackson Whittemore was standing in a plush white bathrobe with his initials embossed on chest. And of course, sporting his almost permanent scowl.

“Get in. Take your fucking clothes off. Oh, and I have a surprise for you.” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a shitty way.

“Whatever.” Stiles huffed as he slipped pass Jackson and into his charmingly decorated condo.

 

 

 

With Jackson he didn't need to be reserved and tamed. Jackson really was purely in it for the fucking. He didn't have any kinks, no ‘daddy’ talk or dom/sub play. Going from ass to mouth was kinky to Jackson, and that's saying a lot considering the abundance of things Stiles has done.

Let’s just say, he'd never look at urinals the same.

As much of a hard ass Jackson seemed to be, he was really just a little rich boy too scared to come out to his parents in fear that they might cut him off. There was no secret about who he was. His parents were pretty well known. His mother being an heiress to her family’s bank empire and his father being an entertainment lawyer.

Luckily Jackson wasn't in the press too much, unless he was getting kicked out of clubs or getting a DUI.

 

“Someone’s in a pissy mood today.” Jackson murmured behind him as he finished locking his door.

"Well, getting called a dickwipe first thing in the morning isn't really a good way to start the day off." Stiles grumbled slipping his jacket off and beginning to undress.

"We'll you're getting fucked today, that should cheer you up-oh wait...you get fucked everyday...don't you?" Jackson laughed, smiling contemptuously.

 

Stiles stopped in the middle of unbuttoning his jeans. "Seriously dude?"

Jackson chuckled as he poured himself some coffee, sporting his little shitty demeaning smirk.

"What? You're a slut." he said gesturing to Stiles' half naked frame "Don't you enjoy this shit or something? A dick a day keeps the sadness away?"

Stiles' jaw dropped. He was used to Jackson being an asshole. He really was, but he had never called him a slut outside of the bedroom. In the bedroom it was safe, it didn't really mean anything. Didn’t hold any power.

 

Just dirty talk.

 

But this was 'casual' talk and Jackson didn't think twice about it. This was what he thought about Stiles, that this is all he saw. Not a person. A slut.

And how easily he had...dissected him

 

....keeps the sadness away

 

"I...I think I'm gonna go." Stiles half whispered buttoning his pants back up, reaching for his t-shirt and jacket on the decorative sitting chair.

Jackson put his mug down. Brows knitted in confusion. “What do you mean you're going to go?"

Stiles felt the heat rising to his cheeks. "I mean, I'm suddenly not in the mood for this shit." he says roughly.

"Wait a minute! That's not how this works!" Jackson whined like the spoiled prick he is. This was possibly the first time someone had ever told him no.

"It's my body and I can decide when I do and do not want to do this." Stiles said tugging his shirt on.

 

"Really? Since when has it been your body?” Jackson laughed, Stiles’ could feel his blood boiling

“Men run through you constantly." Jackson said...fucking conversationally.

Stiles was about to threaten to expose Jackson's gay secret to the press when a tall, muscular, dark skin, gorgeous man walked out of the back room. He was dressed in only a pair of loose grey sweatpants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He was clearly hung.

 

"Wow, what's going on out here?" He asked looking between Stiles and Jackson. Jackson spoke first.

"Well, he wants to leave now," he said pointing a finger at Stiles

"Apparently I've offended him." Doing air quotations over 'offended'.  "Whatever, he can fucking go. I'll pay someone else the extra money."

 

"Extra money?" Stiles asked; he knew he was walking straight into a trap but this was money...extra money. And let's be honest. People weren't going out of their way to give him extra money. "You mean like...double the amount?"

Jackson scratched his perfectly sculpted chest as he looked at Stiles like he was the dumbest person on earth.

"Yes dickmouth, I was going to pay you extra to let both me and my boy Boyd fuck you." he gestures between himself and the other man. "But you want to leave, so go." he said thumbing over to the door.

"Jackson, chill out with the name calling man" Boyd said in Stiles' defense. Defense he didn't deserve. He had already made up his mind. He was going to stay.

What he charged Jackson regularly wasn’t worth the disrespect that came out of his mouth. But he could definitely put up with it for double the amount.

"Fine, I'll..I'll fucking stay." Stiles said apprehensively.

Jackson snorted, "I knew you would. Oh yeah, no condoms either." he said as he shrugged his robe off.

Stiles' eyes widened. He was ok with breaking his no group rule, but now no condoms?

"Wait, we never...you know I don't do that." his arms flailed...just a little bit.

"I'll throw in an extra two hundred if it makes you feel any better" Jackson laughed as he stalked over to Stiles and pulled his jacket back off.

Stiles couldn't say no. It was so much money. More than he had made in the past couple of months combined. He could pay off two months rent, buy all the things he needed for school that he had passed on and even have a comfortable amount of cash left for food.

 

...Come on baby, you know you love this...

 

He closed his eyes and pushed the old words out of his head. He looked in Jackson eyes and nodded. He'd do it.

 

Boyd, the man who was joining in with he and Jackson had opted to use a condom. So that made things a little better. Stiles was sure he had done it solely for his comfort. He mentally thanked him.

They had both undressed Stiles right in the living room. Jackson wrenching his jeans off, Boyd slipping his shirt over his head. When he was completely nude Jackson disappeared into the back room while Boyd sat on the couch with Stiles straddling his lap; sucking on his neck and chest.

It had been awhile since he had been with Chris or Peter and his body had completely healed. So his skin was back to being pale and milky. Soft and innocent looking.

 

How everyone liked it.

 

"D-don't leave any m-marks." he huffed as Boyd held on to his waist and sucked roughly on his once pink nipples that were now an angry red. Boyd just nodded and his suckling lightened up.

 

Boyd was handling him so gently, his hands only gripping Stiles' waist hard enough to hold him in place, not anywhere near bruising. His soft chaste kisses up Stiles' throat were tender as well.

 

Not anything Stiles wasn't used to, but he hadn't been handled like this since the day after his night with Chris. He and Danny had an argument instead of the sex they had spoken about when he arrived at school the previous day, so that was a bust...

 

Danny. Let’s not think about Danny.

 

Jackson came out the back room with what looked like a pair of socks in his hand. They were baby blue with three yellow lines circling around the top. Like the type of socks soccer players wore. Only cuter.

 

"Put these on." Jackson said as he threw the socks at Stiles. Boyd loosened his hold on Stiles waist so he could get off his lap and pull the socks on.

 

They came up to below his knees, the baby blue color standing out bright against his pale skin, pulled tight over his legs to show off the silhouette of his slender frame. They were absolutely adorable...a little too adorable. He looked...he looked like...

 

"Fuck, Stiles..." Jackson practically choked out "you look like a fucking twink."

Guess Jackson found his kink.

 

"Show yourself off." Jackson commanded. As Boyd watched him he palmed himself through his sweatpants. Stiles could already tell how this was going to go. Jackson was going to call the shots while Boyd just followed suit.

"I said show yourself off, turn around and bend over."

Stiles shifted on the couch, his knees digging into the soft leather cushions as he arched his back and spread his legs. Exposing his ass to Jackson and Boyd.

"Like this?"  He asked softly, the way Jackson liked. Almost a whisper.

"Yeah, n-now reach back and spread your cheeks."

"Damn, Jackson." Boyd huffed.

 

Stiles reached back and spread his cheeks and flushed a bit when he felt the cold air of the room breeze over his hole. He would deny his dick jumping at the small feeling until the end of time.

 

"Stiles, you look so fucking cute in those socks, I...I just want to.." Jackson sounded so wrecked.

"What do you want to do to me Jacks-oh fuck!"

Stiles jumped when a warm, slick wetness rubbed against his hole. He was one hundred percent sure it was a tongue.

Yup. It was. Jackson was licking and sucking on his hole like it held the nectar of life.

His tongue was soft, wet and so soaked with saliva. The feeling was vulgar. Jackson was kneading his cheeks with his palm and pulling them impossibly further apart until his entire face was buried in Stiles ass.

 

And Stiles, Stiles was trying so hard to not make too much noise. His moans and whimpers were turned into high pitched inhales and exhales of breath. His throat was dry with the surplus of air he was breathing in sharply.  He hoped the homey neighbors with pajamas and coffee parties wouldn't hear him.

 

"F-fuck Jackson, I...I can't." he hissed, his legs were shaking and he could feel the heat rising in his body. And this was all from Jackson's mouth.

When one of his legs almost slipped from under him Jackson pulled back with a loud slurp, which was downright obnoxious.

"Nah uh, we're only beginning. Your...your ass tastes so good, I can't even...Boyd..here", Jackson crooked a finger at Boyd and he came over, taking Jackson's place behind Stiles.

 

Stiles wasn't shy. He hadn’t been shy in a very long time.

 

But...he couldn't help but blush at the feeling of having himself on display like this. Bent over, legs spread with his back arched. Like some bitch in heat. Not to mention this was his first threesome. His thoughts were interrupted when he felt the continuation of his thorough ass eating.

 

He would have thought it impossible for anyone to outdo Jackson but Boyd was proving him wrong.

So very wrong.

 

Boyd began laving and licking. Combining his own mess with the one Jackson had left behind. He could feel the saliva from their mouths slowly traveling down his perineum to his balls. The sensation was almost unbearable.

For the majority of the time Stiles' head had been hanging off the back of the couch. His body shaking too violently to hold himself up.

Well, it was hanging off until Jackson came around to the back of the couch and wrenched his head up. By his hair.

"Suck my dick baby."

 

And he did. He took all of Jackson's seven inches in his mouth and then roughly down his throat. He was very proud that he had learned to control his gag reflex because Jackson was showing his throat no mercy. Stiles barely had time to catch his breath before he felt Jackson’s dick plunging back down his throat.

Between breaths he'd flinch at Boyd who was taking him from behind. Squeezing on the globes of his pale ass, taking him and ravishing his backside.

It was all almost too much.

 

"Shit!" Jackson growled when he pulled out and held Stiles' jaw in his hand, making him look up at him. "You're fucking perfect you know that? I know I talk shit, but you're beautiful baby…" he said running his thumb across Stiles’ wet reddened bottom lip.

 

Stiles let the compliment wash over him. Let it soak into his skin. Jackson appreciated him. Jackson and Boyd. They cared about him. He made them feel good.

 

They made him feel good.

He gasped when he felt Boyd kiss and lick his hole.

 

"I-I'm..r-ready..." He choked out. He was exhausted and he had barely done anything. But Jackson and Boyd had worn him out.

 

Everything was so sensitive. His nipples, his dick that Boyd had been keeping on edge while he was behind him. His throat had practically been fucked raw by Jackson, each and every breath causing him to shiver. And his ass had been eaten so well.

He was fucked out. And hadn’t even been penetrated.

"You ready baby?" Jackson purred while he caressed Stiles' face. Stiles nodded. Voice too wrecked for words.

"He's definitely ready, his legs are shaking like crazy." Boyd laughed as he slapped Stiles ass.

Before he knew it Stiles was being pulled back to sit in Boyd's lap again, his back to Boyd's chest and legs splayed wide, his feet dangling up as Boyd held his legs back.

He didn't want to admit it, but he was scared. Very scared. Boyd's dick was...big. Really big. Stiles had dealt with big dicks before, but that had been before he became pretty much exclusive to his clients.

 

When he was on the streets. He had ran by countless sizes.

 

"Oh Boyd. He's looking kind of scared. You're scaring him." Jackson laughed as he rubbed Stiles' calf's, running his fingertips slowly over the fabric of the baby blue socks.

 

"You've never been with a black guy before hunh?” he asked, “Never been split open?"

 

Stiles shook his head. It was a lie, he had been with black guys before, nowhere as near as hot as Boyd, but he had been. But that's not what Jackson wanted to hear. Stiles had discovered Jackson's kink.

 

Innocence.

 

"Well, we're gonna change that today babe." And with that he, Jackson himself, put a condom in his mouth and worked it onto Boyd's dick. Stiles would’ve chuckled if he weren’t so shocked by the action ; Jackson's' skill sucked. Well, he really wasn't that bad, but it would've taken Stiles less than ten seconds.

 

Or maybe Jackson was enjoying the cock in his mouth.

Just then he felt a nudge at his hole and choked on a breath. It was Boyd's dick. His very big dick. That he wasn't even ready for. He started squirming...not to really get away...but to kind of get away from the Jurassic dick.

 

"No baby. Just take it. Take all of it, I wanna see you stretch” Jackson whispered as he kissed up the inside of Stiles' thighs. Fingers still caressing the socks.

"J-Jackson n-" Stiles tried

"Don't you want to make us proud? Make me and Boyd proud? To see that you can take anything we give you?"

Stiles heart skipped a beat. Yes. He did. He wanted to make them proud. Someone proud.

"Mhmm" Stiles nodded biting his lip softly.

Then Jackson smiled. It was sinister as fuck. And he suddenly hated himself for agreeing. He hated himself even more when he felt Boyd's fat dick pushing into him.

 

It hurt.

 

A lot.

 

Boyd seemed to be enjoying it if his grunts and groans and "Fuck yes"'s meant anything. He didn't speak much but when he did it was curse words and praise. And then there’s Jackson who's jerking himself off as he sits on the floor between Boyd's legs like a dog and watches everything.

Watches Stiles hole stretch and stretch to accommodate the large cock. Watching Boyd inch him down slowly, until Stiles was fully seated onto his dick. If Stiles had thought his legs were shaking before he was wrong. His entire being was shaking now.

His legs, his arms, his mind. Down to his bones. He was just so full. Stuffed full. Of dick.

 

"I-I can't, please it's too much. I...I feel like I'm breaking." Stiles whined, and he wished he didn't sound so...sound like he liked it. Like he meant the complete opposite.

"You are breaking baby,” Jackson crooned, “you're breaking so pretty. So pretty for me and Boyd. You took it all. Like you promised me." Jackson said before pushing Stiles' legs even further back than Boyd was holding them and licked around his hole. His stuffed hole.

 

Stiles bucked his hips at the sensation and sucked in a cold breath through his teeth. He felt an electric tingle flow up his spine when Boyd let one of his legs down to run his fingers through Stiles' sweat soaked hair.

 

And god, when did he get so sweaty?

 

His entire body was slick with sweat, his right leg moist in Boyd's clutches, his collar bones pink and flushed. His skin was slick everywhere and he felt incredibly good.

 

"...did you hear me baby?" whispered Jackson's voice slicing through his haze of pleasure.

He shook his head. Because no, he didn't hear Jackson. He was too busy clenching himself around Boyd's cock, making sure none of his cock slipped out. Boyd had managed to wrap an arm around Stiles to jerk off his aching hard on.

"F-fuck, Boyd" Stiles stuttered, squeezing around Boyd again in reaction to his touch.

 

"Mmm, I like the way he says my name, say it again" Boyd growled thrusting into him and smashing his prostate.

"B-BOYD! Fuck!" Stiles shouted, his nerves going haywire.

"I think we've taken it slow enough Boyd what'd you think?" Jackson asked from where he was lapping at the space between Stiles' balls and hole.

 

"Finally, let’s finish this." Boyd said grabbing Stiles legs again. He held them tight together and drew them back to Stiles chest, folding him. Before Stiles could catch his breath Boyd pushed his hips up, thrusting his cock into Stiles ass before drawing it back out quickly; just to repeat the process all over again.

 

It was agonizingly good.

 

The awkward ache of being stretched wide, mixed with the pleasurable fullness, so full. The warm sweet pull and drag inside of him making his legs tremble. He was completely drunk. Drunk on sex.

"My turn." he heard Jackson announce through his heady haze. Almost instantly Boyd was pulled out of him and he was being fucked by Jackson. Jackson wasn't as big as Boyd, at all, and his rhythm was off. Jackson was erratic when it came to sex. No actual skill or precision. Just animalistic. Punching in and out of Stiles' searching for his orgasm, not actually caring if his partner got off.

 

"Your little hole is so amazing. So tight, like you didn't just get stretched wide." Jackson bantered.

 

Stiles couldn't talk. He just moaned, moaned and choked on the breaths that got caught in his throat as Jackson slammed into him at every angle.

Then he was gone, and Boyd was pushing back into him. And they continued that way. Taking their turns fucking Stiles for what seemed like forever.

Until Jackson got an idea.

"Turn around, turn around and keep Boyd’s dick inside you."

 

Stiles nodded and barely managed to turn himself around on wobbly legs until he was face to face with Boyd.

"Whoa, Jackson. You weren't lying when you talked about how adorable he was." Boyd laughed.

 

"When have I ever lied to you Boyd?" Jackson said proudly.

"Let's not go there" Boyd said stoically.

Stiles would've laughed, and joked about how much of a liar he was sure Jackson was. Except he was too busy staring at his reflection in the small framed mirror settled on the dining room table. He could see himself from the top of his head down to his chest.

 

His hair was soaked with sweat, sticking out every which way. Lids lowered. His cheeks were so pink they were almost red and his neck had red marks that he hoped wouldn't bruise. His Adam's apple was bobbing with the heavy breaths he was taking & his chest was flushed. Hickies spanning across his collarbone. He looked completely and totally fucked out.

 

"H-hurry up, fuck" he whispered his voice raw in his throat, he wanted more.

 

"You're about to get us both off..right..now."

And that's when Stiles felt Jackson dick make its way in beside Boyd's. They were both inside of him.

 

He blacked out.

 

When Stiles came back to consciousness he heard the clang and jingle of keys from behind him.

 

His entire body was aching. His arms, his lower back, everything. Nowhere near as bad as one night with Chris. But it definitely felt like he had been used by two people. He groaned and cursed to himself when he felt the telltale of something oozing out of his hole.

"Fuck...not inside me..." he whispered, dropping his head back on the leather seat. He looked down at himself and he was still completely nude minus the socks he was still wearing.

"Look who's awake." said a voice behind him.

 

Fucking Jackson.

 

Stiles looked up to see Jackson fully dressed up in a white polo shirt, a fresh expensive looking pair of slacks and a pink tie he was adjusting.

"What happened?" Stiles groaned. Running a hand through his hair that was back to being soft.

"You kind of passed out. The double penetration was a bit much for you." He said rolling his eyes as he finished adjusting his tie and picked up a black blazer to put it on.

 

Stiles sat up, a shocked expression painting his face.

 

"And you guys just kept going? I fainted and you two just kept going?" the anger was a slow storm building in his chest.

 

Jackson put his hands up and stepped back "Uh, no. We stopped...until you fucking moaned for us to keep going and started talking about some 'Derek' guy."

Stiles felt all the blood drain out of his face. He what?

"Dude. You look like you're about to be sick. Don't throw up on my couch it's pricel-"

"Fuck your couch! Tell me exactly what I said!” Stiles demanded, pulling the socks off his feet and searching around the floor for his underwear.

 

"Uhh, well, after you growled at us to keep going, which was hot by the way. You started babbling about 'this is what Derek deserves' and 'you were right that you could take care of yourself’. Kinda fucking weird." Jackson laughed as he fixed his cufflinks.

 

Stiles found his clothes in a pile beside the couch and started pulling them on quickly. "Is that all I said?" He asked.

 

Jackson seemed to be thinking really hard and then his eyes twinkled and his smiled a shit eating grin. "Oh yeah, something about a 'dad'. Boy, that really got Boyd off. He came almost immediately. I knew this type of thing" he said wiggling a finger at Stiles "Was run by daddy issues but wow...it really is." he laughed.

 

"Shut the fuck up and give me my money" Stiles growled. He didn't like this. Why was he talking? Why couldn't he remember anything? He didn't need his clients knowing his business. Especially Jackson.

 

"Wow, hit a nerve? Oops.” Jackson snickered “Your money is on the coffee table. Let yourself out. And lock the door behind you." Jackson said before stepping out. "If you steal anything I'll know".

 

And he was gone.

 

Stiles pulled his shoes on and stood up.

 

He felt disgusting.

 

He had cum leaking out of his ass and was ninety-nine percent sure he had dried up flakes of it on his stomach too. He felt gross. He wasn't sweaty anymore but his skin felt dry and tight.

 

"Fuck this." he grumbled before peeling his clothes back off and making his way to the back of the condominium where Jackson's room was.

 

Stiles stepped into the en suite bathroom. And started the shower. After looking over the assortment of body washes he chose a chocolate vanilla one. It smelled absolutely incredible. He lathered himself up and stepped under the hot spray of water.

 

He couldn't help the memories of his past that kept trying to penetrate his frame of mind but he kept pushing them away. Derek and his father had made their decision. They didn't want him. Not if they couldn't make decisions for him, but. So he left and made it on his own, it was his life. His life to do with whatever he wanted. He could take care of himself. Just like he told them. No one was going to make decisions for him.

He knew what he was doing; then and now.

After rinsing himself off he used one of the towels placed and folded neatly on the bathroom counter. He wiped the condensation off the mirror to see his reflection. He still had a few faint red marks on his neck and inner thighs. But he was sure they wouldn't bruise.

 

After drying off Stiles made his way back into the main living area.  And he wasn’t alone.

There was a woman who had to be about in her mid-fifties wiping down the counter in the kitchen. She jumped and screamed, throwing the rag at him. Only when it hit him did he realize that he was still naked.

“Shit! Sorry, uhm...I was just leaving-I uhhh, a shower...fuck. Ok! I’m leaving.” he said as he ran over to his pile of clothes and practically jumped into them. The maid was covering her eyes and muttering things in Spanish.

 

After dressing he snatched his payment off the coffee table, snatched an apple out of the bowl of assorted fruits and slipped out the door.

The maid had a lot more to worry about than Stiles’ naked body.

 

There was a used magnum condom lying in all its disgusting glory on the coffee table.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	5. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. I'm working on all my fics simultaneously.
> 
> This chapter is short considering how long I actually wanted to make it. And I'm also not too proud of the writing but it's done.
> 
> Warning for the use of the F word. And no it's not FUCK. Lol

After leaving Jackson's place paid in full, Stiles would have loved to subsequently go home and relax. Ball up in his warm bed and fall asleep under his heavy comforter. With the light sound of his television playing in the back to lull him to sleep.

But that would have to wait.

He couldn't walk around with a grand and change in his pocket. Stiles knew better.

In his earlier days of tricking he wouldn't think of it. No one actually thinks that they'll get mugged until it happens to them. Which was exactly what happened to him.

But his case was _weird_.

 

* * *

 

He had just finished blowing off some sketchy looking dude who looked like a younger version of Nicholas Cage.

The guy had been weird, rubbing all over Stiles' face and massaging his throat asking Stiles if he could feel his dick in there. Asking if he _liked_ being a cock sucking whore.

Stiles just kept sucking. Because _no_ he _couldn't_ feel anything in his throat and _no_ he didn't like having his mouth on this guy. The man had about five inches on him. Probably the smallest Stiles had ever dealt with at the time and he wasn't going to be hitting the back of anyone's throat anytime soon.

Apparently when he didn't respond he hurt the guys feelings. Because next thing he knew he felt a sharp pain on the side of his jaw, knocking him back on his ass and onto the hard wet pavement.

"I asked you a question faggot, do you like being a fucking cocksucker?"

Stiles put his fingers in his mouth and felt a gash on the inside of his cheek where his teeth had dug in from the blow to his face.

"Dude, what the fuck is your problem? Shit...."

The guy slipped his dick back in his pants and spit on Stiles before kicking him in the leg. "My problem is you giving me the worst head of my life and taking my money. I want a refund fag."

Stiles spit out a bit of blood, "Funny how you call me a fag when you, paid me, _a guy_   to suck your dick when there are working girls up and down this _entire_ block."

And Stiles was right. There were more girls walking Grey Wall Street than guys.

Out of every seven girls there was about three working guys. The girls got the most tricks but the guys got paid more.

This guy could've paid less and _still_ been with a girl if he wanted.

"Maybe because you lured me over here and practically begged to suck me off!"   

"Whatever dude, you're fucking crazy." Stiles mumbled, wobbly standing to his feet.

He didn't kneel on his knees when he gave head. The ground was too hard and unforgiving. So he sat on his haunches. The con of this was that after too long his legs would fall asleep.

Allowing him to be vulnerable to any attacker.

The man lunged forward grabbing his throat and backed him up against the brick wall of the nearby building.  

"You calling me a fag?"

Stiles should've just said no. Said no and handed the guy his money back. But his mouth always moved before his brain did.

"Well if the shoe fits." he snarled spitting in the guys face.

Last thing he remembers is the guy kissing him violently on the lips and then his lights going out. He woke up with all of his money gone and his sneakers missing. He was happy to find that he hadn't been raped.

Getting raped wouldn't have been cool.

At all.

 

* * *

 

Stiles had successfully made it to the bank in one piece. It was getting later in the day. The bank wasn't too full but it was clearly busy.

He made his way to the back of a line and pulled his phone out to occupy himself with a few games he had recently downloaded. Every line was equally as long so rushing was pointless.

Thirty minutes, four games and half his battery life later Stiles finally made it to the front of the line.

There was a young woman with dark brown hair and warm brown eyes. Her cheeks were rosy and her smile seemed...forced.

"Welcome to Argent Bank, I'm Allison, how may I assist you today" she practically chanted.

Stiles snorted. "You could start by relaxing."

Her eyes widened and she looked to be holding her breath for a few seconds before she exhaled and her shoulders slumped forward.

"Jesus Christ....how could you tell." she groaned.

"I know a little something about body language" he said digging in his pocket and pulling out his cash and placing it on the counter. "Now that you're comfortable, how about we ju-"

" _Allison._ "

His name wasn't Allison but it only made sense to look in the direction of the commanding... _familiar_ voice.

Stiles could have just fallen and died. It was Chris. His John, his trick, his "Daddy" Chris. Standing beside Allison with a firm hand on her shoulder. He looked perfectly calm and unbothered.

"I'll handle this one, Mr..." He looks quickly at the screen of the computer, "Stilinski is a _very_ important customer. I need to speak to him about a few things. Could you help your mother in the back? She's labeling the safety deposit boxes again....alone."

Allison dropped her head in her hands a groaned,

"Why does she insist on doing everything on her own? There's like, four hundred boxes back there" she sighed as she walked off, shaking her head in annoyance.

Stiles' heart was beating a mile a minute. He's never run into one if his clients like this before. It was always them in a hotel, or their place. This was insane.

It was awkward like seeing your high school teacher in the grocery store...well.. if you were fucking your teacher.

Who was married.

With a child just about the same age as you.

Shit.

He was pulled out of his panic by the snap of fingers in his face.

"Huh, uh...what?" He babbled, looking up to see Chris glaring at him.

"How. Much. Are. You. Depositing..." The older man drawled.

"Twelve hundred dollars" he whispered.

Chris stuck his hand out. Stiles gave him the cash, avoiding Chris' electric eyes.

"Hmm, this is a lot of cash...Genim Stilinski. I wonder what you had to do to make _so much_...so soon." sarcasm dripped from Chris' lips.

"Don't..."

"Don't what? Ask you why you're here at my bank?" Chris said, as he pressed multiple keys on the computer, never taking his eyes off Stiles.

"I...I didn't fucking know this was your bank okay? I've been coming here for a few months now. I had no idea." Stiles whispered again, looking around to make sure no one was in earshot.

"All the banks in Burgund and this is the one you use. How ironic."

"No, it's a _coincidence_."

"Whatever you say _Genim_." Chris said with a smirk.

"Really? Could you not?"

"What? Since we're getting familiar with each other I-"

"We're familiar enough. Are you done?" Stiles said pointing to the computer.

"So you don't want to meet my wife?" Chris chuckled.

"You're an asshole. You know that? Are you done so I can leave?"

"I'll be done after I tell you this" Chris said darkly. His face becoming void of all emotion.

"Next Tuesday, you will come here...because unfortunately it must be done in person. And you will cancel your account with this bank. Tuesday is the only day my wife and I will not be here."

Stiles' jaw dropped. "What?"

Chris kept his stony expression.

"You will cancel your account and you will not under any circumstances come back here."  

Before Stiles could speak Chris placed proof of his deposit on the counter and walked away.

 

* * *

 

Stiles hadn't spoken to Danny since their argument the night they had promised to meet up together.

Stiles had decided on not going anywhere anymore, upsetting Danny because they had planned this and it'd been so long since they hung out together.

Stiles wasn't in the mood to go home anymore either, figuring Scott would be there with his judging eyes. Looking at him with sad eyes. He didn't need that right now. He needed comfort. A warm body to cuddle next to. Hopefully Danny wasn't still mad.

He was.

"Why are you here?" Danny said angrily opening his apartment door and walking away, leaving Stiles to step in and shut the door himself.

"You're my boyfriend, that's why. Look, I don't feel like arguing again" he said shrugging his jacket off and  throwing it on the couch. "Can we just lay down? Go sleep together? And I _do_ mean sleep."

He heard Danny laugh in his room, "I'm sure you do! We haven't had sex in two weeks!" he called from the other room.

Stiles rolled his eyes as he looked for the remote to the television. "When I tried to have sex you turned me down remember?"

That made Danny come out the room, his brows were raised up in his forehead "In the school bathroom? Seriously Stiles?"

"If you wanted to have sex with me we could've done it but you turned me down." Stiles sighed as he flipped through channels. "Not my problem anymore."

"Not your pro-You wanted me to fuck you in the bathroom like you're some type of twenty-dollar whore! But I decided to do better and make it special, and this is what I get? Fuck you Stiles."

"Too bad you didn't." Stiles said bluntly.

Danny just waves him off and goes back into his room. It stays that way for a half hour. With him searching the channels for something to keep him company as he lulls off to sleep, and Danny in the room more than likely studying or working on a project.

Danny comes out of his room just before Stiles finally drifts into sleep. He found The Pregnancy Pact playing on LMN and figured it was good sleeping material.

"My friend is coming over in a few and I'm about to take a shower. Could you let him in?" Danny half asks, because as soon as the words leave his mouth he heads to the bathroom.

"Yeah, ok! Not like I was trying to get some sleep or whatever!" Stiles calls after him.

Ten minutes later someone knocks at the door, jerking him out of his sleep and ultimately becoming a new name on his shit list.

"Coming! Just a minute" he calls out as he groggily lifts himself off the couch and shuffles to the door.

The visitor knocks again, completely ignoring his calling out to let them know he was aware of their presence.

He opened the door as he wiped some of the drool from his mouth. "I said I was com-"

Standing in front of him was none other than the douchebag of the millennium...

 

**What the fuck was Jackson Whittemore doing here?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	6. Sweetlips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a while to write but I'm happy with the results, hopefully you all will be too.
> 
> Warning for the use of the f-word again. And it's not fuck. Uhm...I think that's it.
> 
> But really, if you've gotten this far I'm sure you could care less about warnings. 
> 
> Also, -- is a sign of a flashback.

Stiles stepped out the apartment into the hallway; quickly, but quietly; shutting the door and pushing Jackson away from the apartment door. He wasn't usually violent but Whittemore was the _very_ last person he needed at his boyfriends doorstep.

 

"Jackson? What _the fuck_ are you doing here?"

Jackson smirked and folded his arms,

"Uhh, I could pretty much ask you the same thing. This is my boy Danny's place..." there was a pause, Jackson cocked his head and his eyes widened a bit, "No way! I'd never pin Danny for the _rent boy_ type! Can I join?" He laughed pointing at the apartment door.

 

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head "Don’t a fucking rent boy, you asshole. And Danny isn't paying me anything to be here!"

 

Jackson's brows furrowed and he nibbled on his bottom lip for a second, most likely figuring out what disrespectful statement he could make next. Not that he was ever out of insults. Stiles rolled his eyes when Jackson's eyes lit up and braced himself for whatever was coming.

"Oh, so you're getting fucked for free now? Where is your sense of self-worth? I mean, not that I care but I like to think all my _toys_ cost..."

Stiles closed his eyes to rid himself of Jackson's uncanny ability to always and _forever_ have a never ending amount of insults; and exhaled slowly.

 

"Danny...Danny is my...” Stiles folded his arms and huffed, "Danny is my boyfriend...ok? There, do your worst."

 

Jackson's jaw dropped and his entire face reddened, secondhand embarrassment at its best. Oh no, but that wasn't even the worst part, the worst part was Jackson literally falling to the floor with tears streaming out of his eyes as he laughed, _hard_ , while pointing at Stiles.

 

"You're such a fucking asshole," Stiles grumbled as he stood there watching Jackson wiping the tears from his eyes. "So what? Are you going to tell him?"

 

Jackson took a deep breath and held a serious face for less than a few seconds before choking out a laugh, "Tell him what?" he threw his hands up, and “That his boyfriend is a wh-"

 

Stiles leered at him.

 

"...A hum, whatever you are?" He got up and dusted his pants, "because you're _surely_ not an escort." he mumbled.

 

Before Stiles could get a straight answer out of him the door behind him opened and Danny was standing there in just his SpongeBob pajama pants. He looked a bit confused.

 

"Uh, hey Jackson. Stiles...why are you both out here?" He frowned, dimples still finding a way to present themselves.

"Apparently I know your boyfriend." Jackson taunted drawing out the last word and smirking. Danny must have caught on and he looked between the two of them.

"Jackson...please don't tell me you had sex with my boyfriend before." He looked from Jackson to Stiles "Stiles, did you and Jackson ever..." He waggled his finger between them.

Stiles didn't know what to do, what to fucking say. His immediate plan would have been to say 'no'. Stiles was good at a lot of things, and lying was at the top, but that wouldn't mean anything if Jackson combated his lie.

"No Danny, not this time. Stiles and I met once before. He's a friend of a friend, had no idea we were connected. Spooked him."

 

Maybe Jackson wasn't so bad...

 

No, he was still awful; but Stiles would comply with Jackson’s story.

"Yeah, it was really out of the blue! Plus you weren’t dressed so I figured I’d keep him company out here." Stiles agreed nodding, maybe a little too hard.

Danny just shrugged and opened the door wider "Jackson’s seen me naked; regardless, I made chocolate chip cookies, oven baked."

 

Jackson fixed his collar and stepped inside. Stiles swiftly kissed Danny on the cheeks before stepping inside as well.

 

-

 

Things had gone surprisingly smooth for Stiles, they all ate the delicious cookies Danny made, When they were done snacking and making small talk Stiles took time to do work on his laptop, while Jackson and Danny spoke amongst themselves.

He had been very hesitant to leave Jackson alone with Danny, fearing that he might tell him about his selling his body. But he got over it after the first three hours of him being there. The closest Jackson even came to talking about it was asking Danny if he had a _sock_ fetish. Which Danny laughed at and said no.

Stiles' heart skipped a beat from where he sat on the couch, but Jackson hadn't even spared him a glance; his toes tickled at the memory of the baby blue and yellow knee socks.

 

"Babe, do _you_ have any fetishes?"

Stiles looked up to see Danny and Jackson looking at him from the stools in the small open style kitchen. Jackson observing him with the gaze of a starving shark.

“Uuh...I..don't reall-", Stiles was so not prepared for this shit.

 

Jackson waved his hand dismissively.

 "Bullshit. Everyone has a kinky bone in their body. You mean to tell me you and Danny never did any _nasty nasty_ ,Stiles?"

Danny blushed and playfully punched Jackson in the shoulder, "Dude! Seriously? That’s none of your busi-“

 

"I like rough sex" Stiles spoke up, not wanting Jackson to feel like he had the advantage. Jackson was indirectly taunting him and he wouldn't let that happen in his own space...or Danny's space actually.

 

 

 

Danny's eyes widened and his lips turned up. "Oh ok, babe. We can try that..."

Stiles smiled, one for Danny stepping up and not bitching out of the conversation and for himself.

Jackson scoffed, "Oh please, who doesn't liked getting fucked hard?"

Danny raised a hand, and Jackson chuckled.

Stiles looked up and licked his lips before shaking his head. "No, I like when it hurts; when it's just on the edge of too much. When I want to stop...but the other person just keeps...using me to get off."

The room was silent after that. No one speaking, they were both just staring at Stiles. Danny looking a little _overwhelmed_ ; like if he took a breath he'd splinter into a thousand pieces. The look on Jacksons face told him everything he needed to know about how their next session would go; he looked even hungrier than before.

"Looks like...you're dealing with a wild one." Jackson murmured to Danny, squirming a bit in his seat, narrowing his eyes at Stiles.

Danny scratched his head "...Yeah. Uhm, Jackson I think it's... _you have to go._ " he announced, grabbing Jackson, his jacket and practically pushing him out the door.

But not before Jackson was able to give Stiles a sly grin.

 

-

 

"Fuck!" Stiles groaned when Danny wrenched his pants down and hurriedly took his dick into his mouth.

 

The speed in which Danny had rushed at him after shutting the door in Jackson's face had been almost supernatural. What with him seemingly gliding across one side of the apartment to the other and attacking his body where he sat on the couch.

He almost knocked the laptop off of Stiles' lap in his haste.

He shuddered when Danny mouthed at the underside of his dick while running his smooth hands up and down his thighs, going further up and under until his palms were squeezing at Stiles' ass.

 

Stiles grabbed the back of Danny's head, lazily guiding him up the top of his dick and back under the large vein, until pushing Danny further down to suck at his balls.

Danny had this thing where he would take Stiles' balls in his mouth and play with them and it drove Stiles crazy.

Which was currently happening.

"G- _god_! Yes!" Stiles groaned trying to hold himself still while Danny quite literally juggled Stiles’ balls in his mouth.

Stiles had to steady himself when Danny let his balls out, pushed his legs up and lapped at and fingered his hole. Stiles couldn't stop moaning, it all felt so good, to finally be serviced instead of always being the one doing the servicing.

 

 Danny had three fingers in him and was slowly, very slowly, twisting and dragging his fingers around before he would reach back and jab his prostate.

God bless the medical classes Danny was enrolled in.

He didn't know he had his eyes closed until Danny spoke and he opened them a bit," Do you want to top or-"

Typical Danny; so selfless.

"No, you top, I like being the bottom."

Danny kissed his inner thigh and got up to go into the room; most likely get some lube and a condom. Stiles was a bit annoyed at the loss of heat over him but he settled for stroking himself while he waited. But when Danny came back with lube but no condom, Stiles became anxious.

 

"We ran out of condoms, but we should be fine right? I mean, I'm clean. And you're clean...and it's only been us." he shook the lube bottle and looked at Stiles like he was waiting for an answer.

Stiles stopped stroking himself. Danny being a medical student, and ever the responsible, had proposed he and Stiles get tested for anything before pursuing a sexual relationship. Stiles had still been prostituting at the time but always carrying protection with him and getting tested so he hadn't worried.

 

Tricks that would approach him almost always counted on him not having protection on him.

 

\--

 

"Woah, kid, two boxes of Trojans?" The guy at the store counter asked over the reggaeton that was blaring through the speakers. Stiles quickly looked behind him to see the four other customers, two being other working girls, staring at him.

So much for being discreet

 

 Stiles clenched his jaw and averted his eyes,

"Yeah Miguel, you fucking ask me that all the time. I always buy two boxes."

The olive skinned, greasy haired, stout man behind the counter of assorted overpriced candies and stands of the daily newspaper, who had to be in his mid-forties snorted, "Don't get yelling with me papi, I'm just looking out for your culo."

Stiles squinted; he’d barely passed Spanish, "My what?"

 

"Your _ass,_ now could you move, ha, condoms wish I had been safe...probably wouldn't have _the package_ now." a dark haired woman dressed in a too tight, too short leather skirt said as she pushed passed Stiles, grabbed his boxes of condoms and shoved them at his chest.

"You suck cock with the condom on too sweetlips?"

Her mascara was smudged and her eyes were bloodshot. She had on way too much makeup but it was probably to cover up how old she was; which wasn't working because it clumped in the deep creases of her face, her purple lipstick bled into the lines around her lips making her look like a caricature of what she would probably look like without all of it.

 

She had to be in her thirties at the least. Her hair was badly thinned out and Stiles could see where her ratty clip in extensions began and ended.

 

Her eyes are what caught the most of his attention though. Through all of her heavy eye makeup he could still make out the anger. He could see that she had given up on life a long time ago.

Stiles quickly exited the store; escaping her question and the scrutiny of the other customers as he made it back to his spot; the outer gate of a children's park.

He liked this spot because he could take his tricks under the jungle gym where there was a small bench and suck them off, or let them fuck him if they paid enough. Yeah, kids played there, but _honestly_ a public park couldn’t be made any filthier.

He had nothing to worry about when it came to STD's. He wasn't doing drugs, so he wasn't sharing needles and he was having safe sex only. He wouldn't end up like the woman with the purple lipstick. He was only doing this until he could pay his next month’s rent; he wasn't calling his dad for help no matter what Scott said.

If his life choices couldn’t be supported, he’d support himself.

There were hundreds of people who wanted to have sex, who wanted to get in a quick fuck and be on their way. They also paid, and apparently this was one of the few things he was good at; according to his ex Joseph, who admitted to him that he only _"fucked him for fun"_.

 So why not?

 

He took the condoms out of their boxes, stuffed them into his back and front pockets and threw the boxes over somewhere on the ground.

Stiles was only standing alone for twenty minutes until two drunk, laughing college jocks confronted him with a hundred-fifty bucks.

They wanted to _"Try something new"_ because their _"girls are boring and never let us try anal"_ and _"who better to try anal with than some random fag?"_

If only he got an extra twenty dollars for every closet case...

Stiles took them into the dark park and led them under the jungle gym.

One of them spoke in slurred words when Stiles began unbuckling their belts, "Dude we don't have any condoms so I guess we're gonna just have to r-"

 

Stiles reached into his back pocket and expertly ripped off two condoms.

"I have condoms."

They both whined.

 

-

 

All this time and Stiles had been positive that he was negative for any STD's until now. He still hadn't got tested since he let Jackson go condomless.

And now here was Danny, trusting Stiles to still have the same status he had two months ago. Which he _should_ still have; and shouldn't be worried about if he hadn't been sleeping around.

 

If he had sex without protection with Danny and he does have something from Jackson he could possibly pass it on to Danny. Who would then know that he hadn't been the only person Stiles was having sex with while they were together.

 

No. He couldn't do that to him.

"I want...I want to try something in porn that I saw" he said after seeing Danny's aroused face falter a bit from his delayed answer.

Danny perked up again then nodded "Ok, what is it? I'll do whatever."

Stiles got up off the couch and pushed Danny into it before climbing on his lap and taking both their dicks and wrapping them in Danny's hand, who looked quite shocked.

It's not that Stiles hadn't done this before, but Danny didn't know that, and Danny was very traditional when it came to...well everything; so this had to be new for him at least.

 

"God Danny, you're so fucking hard." he groaned as he fucked into Danny's grip. "I should fuck your hands more often" he whispered in Danny's ear.

Dirty talking got Danny off faster than anything and the harder he could get him to come the better. He couldn't risk intercourse.

 

Stiles wrapped Danny’s fist in his own and made him pump their dicks.

“Next time I'm going to suck your cock when you're studying Danny", the man under him groaned and Stiles felt him jerk his hips up into his hand. "I'll crawl under the table, and suck you off while you w-write your paper. Would you l-like that? Oh fuck."

Danny nodded, but more so thrashed his head up and down before he and Stiles came together, all over his hand and abs.

" _Stiles_ ," he gasped, "Your mouth is filthy. It's gonna ruin me."

Stiles just put his face in the crook of Danny's neck and sucked a hickey onto his throat.

 

He'd go get tested tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	7. Clinic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for:  
> A little bit of domestic abuse. Just a bit.  
> &  
> And a LITTLE BIT of anal bleeding (shit is getting real).

Being the super paranoid person that he is, Stiles made a point to go to the furthest, most random clinic he could find in the city. He didn't need the surprise of running into someone he may know or for someone to spot him walking into the clinic.

This ended up in him being all the way in Queens. Ok, so maybe he overdid it. But it's always better to be safe than... _well_ , if he had been safe he wouldn't be in this situation. Whatever.

The clinic was off to itself, in the center of two vacant spaces that were for sale. There were no cars parked outside and the street wasn't busy in the least.

It would've been easier to just confront Jackson and ask him if he had anything but Stiles was a hundred percent sure the man's answer would be no. And then he'd counter with something about Stiles being the whore.

Stiles flexed his fingers and exhaled. Trying to build up the nerve to get himself from the outside of the clinic to the inside.

He jumped when a young woman trudged past him and into the clinic. Which oddly enough, gave him the confidence to go inside as well.

 

There were three other people inside the clinic. A large black woman with short curly hair, she was sitting back looking comfortable as she read one of the provided magazines. There was a nervous white man who was balding in the center of his head who was wringing the hell out of his hands. His actions definitely represented how Stiles was feeling at the moment.

And then of course there was the young blonde girl who had entered just before him who looked...pissed, to say the least.

He made his way over to the counter where an old woman who was sitting at her computer behind a glass window, she was probably in her mid-forties and had a head full of gray hair.

She looked up when he approached the window and slid a sheet of paper through the small opening.

"Sign your name, what you're here for and phone number. Everything is anonymous; we just need your number in case we need to get back in touch with you. All information is deleted after a month." Stiles nodded, quickly filled out the sheet and slid it back under the window.

"Ok, now you just take a seat and we'll get someone with you shortly." she said as she took his sheet and began to enter his information in the system.

 

Stiles took a seat away from everyone in the room and furthest from the window.

 

He hadn't been to the clinic since he had been with Danny. Back then he had nothing to worry about. He just _knew_ he was clean. He hasn't had any type of unsafe sex. Having even given blowjobs with the condom on, which he had been told countless times was ridiculous. But he _still_ did it.

He didn't do it anymore now, sick of ingesting lubricant and spermicide, but he was pretty sure he'd be fine.

It was the sex part that he wasn't so sure about.

Sex was more strenuous and damaging, believe him, he knew.

 

-

 

 "Joseph, ow! Take it out, it hurts!"

Joseph sighed, but didn't pull out. He just grabbed the base of his dick and pushed in harder. "Just... _come on_ , I stretched you enough."

Stiles hissed at the flash of pain and kicked Joseph off of him.

"Get the fuck off!" He yelled.

Joseph's dick slipped out and he rolled his eyes. "God, we're gonna have to fuck at some poi-what the hell is this?"

Stiles sat himself up and winced at the ache in his ass. "What?"

Joseph looked up with panicked eyes and then looked back down. Stiles followed his gaze and looked at the condom Jason was wearing that was tinged pink at the tip.

"You got blood on my dick"

 

"What?" Stiles reached down to rub at his hole and brought his hand back up, nothing. He frowned and reached back down, slipping the tip of his index finger past the ring of muscles and winced again. When he brought his hand back up this time there was a bit of blood on it.

"Jo- _Joseph_! What the fuck!?" He yelled at the other man who was already off the bed and taking the condom off.  "I told you to _wait_ you fucking asshole!"

Joseph waved him off and kept walking towards the shower. "It happens. It's not that big of a deal".

 

Stiles gaped and kicked the sheets off of himself.

"What the fuck do you mean 'it happens'? This never happened with Derek!"

Joseph stopped what he was doing in the bathroom and turned around, brows drawn together.

 "What did you say?"

Stiles blinked and then his heart skipped a beat when the realization of what he said came to him.

"I-I'm sorry."

Joseph shook his head, "Say it again, go ahead."

"No....I don't want to."

"Why? Why don't you fucking say it again Stiles?"

"B-because...I'm with you."

"You're still fucking him aren't you? Is that why you won't have sex with me? Because you're fucking him?"

 

Joseph was in his face now. And Stiles was scared. He goddamn had reason to be. He'd seen the bloody mess Joseph had made of multiple people at clubs and bars before. Joseph was vicious; he'd been boxing all his life and only recently decided to take it up professionally, leaving his blue collar job at his family's law firm.

Joseph had never hit him before. But he had punched holes in walls beside Stiles' head and he was a fan of throwing things around.

"Joseph just...just _calm down_ ;  I'm...I've only been with you."

He failed at not flinching when Joseph lifted a hand up to cup the side of his face. His eyes tracked Stiles' movement.

"Don't be scared of me babe, I won't hurt you okay? You just...you just fucking piss me off sometimes" he whispered, running his thumb over Stiles' lips.

"Baby, you _have_ to stop pissing me off...okay?"

Stiles nodded. "Yes, I'm sorry. I was...being stupid."

Stiles knew Joseph had anger issues. He had had them since he was a child according to his mom. One of the reasons why they put him in boxing classes. Stiles was pretty sure it was counterproductive considering how Joseph still lost his shit at the drop of a dime. Now he just had thee hands to match.

 

Joseph leaned in and kissed Stiles' lips softly. When Stiles didn't kiss back he looked up at him, a frown tense on his face, "Kiss me."

Stiles leaned in slowly and kissed Joseph back, he wasn't prepared for the other man to immediately make the kiss aggressive. Forcing Stiles back into the bed and grabbing at his chest, dragging his nails across Stiles' nipples.

Stiles let out a shivery breath before Joseph covered his mouth with his own again; slipping his hand underneath Stiles’ body and lifting him up closer.

The kiss was asphyxiating and Stiles was about to pull back until a sharp pain stung his lips and he pulled away.

Stiles licked at his lip and tasted blood.

 

Joseph bit him.

"Y-you _bit_ me." he murmured, placing his fingers over the bite.

 

Joseph shrugged and climbed off of him.

"Now when you go to fuck around at least he'll know your lips are mine."

 

Stiles felt tears welling in his eyes, because he would have never thought he'd end up in an abusive relationship, ever. But here he was. "Joseph I told you I'm not with h-"

"Yeah whatever, I'm going out. Tell _Derek_ I said hi."

After that Stiles watched Joseph get dressed and leave. All while he still sat naked in the bed.

He really wasn't cheating on Joseph with Derek.

He hadn't seen Derek for weeks.

 

-

 

Stiles felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up. There's was a tall woman with short brown hair and glasses standing beside him. "Are you.... _Stilinski_?" She asked softly. He nodded.

"Okay," she smiled, "follow me to the back."

Stiles rose from his seat and followed her to the back and took notice of how white everything was. Like if he even looked at the walls too hard he might leave a smudge or something. Most of the doors in the hall were shut except for a few at the end of the hall.

They didn't speak until they entered an empty room and the doctor motioned for him to sit on the medical bed.

"So, Stilinski," She said pulling up a seat to seat herself in front of him "what are you here for today?"

Stiles scratched the back of his head , "I want to be tested."

"For?” She asked sweetly?

 

"Oh, uhm sexually transmitted diseases."

She pulled a strand of hair behind her ear and nodded as she went and wrote something on her notepad.

"Have you been having any symptoms or anything in particular you're worried about?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, he hated this shit. "No, I just...I had unprotected sex and I want to make sure I don't have anything".

She nodded and stood up, going to the cabinet in the room and taking out a small kit.

 

After getting blood pulled Stiles was left alone in the small medical room for a while, while his blood was tested for any diseases. He wasn't too nervous because he trusted Jackson to be negative for all STD’s and keep himself out of harm’s way. Knowing how much of a narcissist he is it wasn't hard to believe that he would.

His nervousness just came from the fact that he really just didn't know.

The physician came inside a few moments later with a paper in her hand and took a seat in front of Stiles again.

"So, I'm going to get straight to the point, you're negative for all STI’s."

Stiles felt a heavy weight tumble off his shoulders and he finally felt like he could breathe.

 

"Jesus Christ." he huffed, dropping his face in his hands.

The doctor chuckled and laid the paper beside him. "Just...be _safe_ okay? There are a bunch of different diseases out there. And some aren’t curable"

He didn't look up but he nodded.

"Everything you need to take care of will be outside. I'll leave you to yourself." And with that she left.

Stiles would never have unprotected sex again. Well...not with his clients. _At least._

 

After paying for his treatment Stiles left the clinic and began making his way back to the subway station. He was rounding a corner knocked into someone and heard the loud splash of a beverage. "Fuck! I'm sorry! So sorry!"

He just immediately began trying to wipe the man off...with his hands, but it was iced coffee. So this proved to be futile.

The man was looking down after dropping his cup and shaking the excess off his hands. "Don't worry abou-"

Stiles froze when the man grabbed his wrist.

He almost shat himself when the man looked up and he saw who it was.

"D-Derek?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	8. Uh Oh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickest I've ever updated a fic in a long time! But I didn't want to leave you all on such an extreme cliff hanger.

"Stiles? Whoa, _shit_...okay. Okay. Wow. Hi?"

Stiles blinked and took a step back. He hadn't seen Derek in almost a year. What with him _purposefully_ avoiding him at all cost. Last he had heard of him he was still living in Beacon Hills.

So seeing him in New York and in Queens, where he _never_ goes, just had to be the universe going out of its way to fuck him over.

He awkwardly found himself getting upset at how he was always finding himself in these situations.

"Derek, what are you doing here?"

Derek looked up from his soaked shirt and raised a brow, "I live here now. I mov-"

 

"Why are you fucking stalking me?" Stiles half yelled jerking a hand out towards Derek. "Do...do you know how _deliberate_ me coming out here was? I _purposefully_ -" he ran his hands down his face in frustration "Just...just _move_ Derek."

He pushed past Derek and was a few steps away before his wrist was grasped and he was spun back around.  "Stiles. What's your problem?"

Stiles snatched his hand away. "My problem is that you won't leave me alone. How did you even find me?"

Derek clenched his jaw and pinched the bridge of his nose. Which Stiles found hilarious because if _anyone_ had the right to be pissed it was him.

"Could we not argue in the middle of the street while I'm covered in iced coffee?"

Stiles shook his head. "No I'm not-"

"Stiles! Please. My apartment is right across the street."

Stiles tried to turn away but Derek grabbed his hand again.

"Stiles. _Please_."

Stiles stopped and looked over Derek. The man was wearing his signature leather jacket that came just a bit too low over his hands and a white v-neck that was now tinged brown and sticking to his body, showing off his perfectly defined torso.

A voice in Stiles head was telling him to turn and run. But the feeling in his _gut_ was telling him to at least speak to Derek. It didn't help that Derek looked completely pitiful at the moment drenched in an ice beverage.

 

"Ok. _Fine_. Only for a minute though." he said.

Derek let out a breath and nodded, holding on to Stiles' hand to guide him to whichever building he was staying in. Stiles indulged him and didn't pull away from his touch.

 

Derek's apartment was small. And simple. Exactly what Stiles would've expected. One black leather couch placed in front of the television. A tiny table in the kitchen with two seats, though it probably came with two seats or else Derek would only have one. They were currently in Derek's bedroom which was just black and white. Very clean and not too overly decorated.

Derek peeled his t-shirt off and threw it over into the nearby hamper. Stiles choked mid-swallow and started coughing.

Derek was still as beautiful as ever. Seeing his body would _never_ get old. And Stiles was doing his best not to look into his incredible eyes, but he failed when Derek looked at him and smiled; pulling open a drawer to get another shirt.

 

Stiles still couldn't believe that Derek had been his first everything. He couldn't think of anyone who started off with a boyfriend who was supermodel material.

Boyfriends are like....cars. Your first one shouldn't be a Porsche. Ever.

Too bad Stiles' was a Lamborghini.

 

"I almost forgot what it was like to have you stare at me." Derek said as he put on a clean, tight fitting Henley, leaving the buttons undone.

Stiles blinked, peeling his focused attention on Derek's chest away to look up at his eyes; which were even more mesmerizing.

"Well, it's not like you've gotten any less attractive." he murmured rolling his own eyes.

Derek shook his head and sat back on his bed with a smile. "How've you been Stiles?"

"I've been taking care of myself" he answered quickly and a little bit more colder than he might have intended; though he did want to get across that he was in fact doing what Derek and his father didn't believe he could do. Even if it involved selling his body.

 

The smile left Derek's face and he looked down at his hands. "Yeah? Still the secretary at that uhm....the...the law place, the firm?"

 

Stiles shook his head. He would have lied, not wanting to open the door to more probing questions but he was sure Derek would find out sooner or later.

Not that he cared or anything.

"Got fired; me and Joseph broke up...it just wouldn't have felt right."

 

Derek rolled his eyes, "Can't believe you stayed with that loser"

Stiles frowned, not liking Derek's tone.

"What is it to you?"

"He was an asshole." Derek said looking in no place in particular with a look of disgust.

"You met him _one_ time"

Derek shrugged, "It was enough for me to see that you weren't happy with him besides we both know that you don’t have the best taste in men.”

Stiles looked away and bit the inside of his cheek. "So, is that it? Can I go now? Or are you going to sit here and drag all my choices through the mud? Because last I remember I dated you too."

"Stiles, just calm down."

"I said you had a minute Derek. A minute ended twenty minutes ago. Why are you in New York?"

Derek sighed and flopped back into the bed. "I'm here on business."

"Bullshit." What business could Derek _possibly_ have outside of Beacon Hills? Sure, he had lived here at one point, with Laura. But when they moved back to Beacon Hills it had seemed as if there was really nothing left for them.

Derek sat up with his brows drawn close together, "Believe it or not, _everything_ is not about you Stiles."

Ok, that hurt. But why?

"I'm here on business. I still have more money than I know what to do with...from the fire, and I'm investing it."

Stiles' eyes widened. He'd never taken Derek for the business type. As far as he was concerned Derek would just sit on the money until he died and it would probably go to the government. It was refreshing to see that he was growing up and taking steps towards...whatever.

 

 

 

"That's...that's good to hear Derek." He murmured.

Derek got up off the bed and stood in place. He and Stiles were just a foot apart. The room had a sudden airiness to it. Just the sounds of them breathing filling the silence.

It had been so long since they had last been together. A long time since they had spoken to each other. And here they are again.

A cruel trick of the universe.

And the way Derek was looking at him; he had to go.

Stiles swallowed before speaking, "I...I think I should go now."

Derek's stare never wavered.

"Stiles."

Stiles shook his head, "Please. Don't."

Derek took another step, closing the distance between them. "Stiles."

Derek's green eyes were burrowing into him, tearing through his exterior and inspecting his insides. He really wanted to look away. To turn his head and walk out the door....

 

And not have sex with Derek.

When he felt Derek's strong hands grab on to his sides he stopped breathing. When Derek pulled him in so that they were chest to chest his heart skipped a beat. When Derek pushed him up against his dresser and shoved his nose in his neck Stiles became woozy and gripped the edge of the dresser.

"D-Derek..."

"I've missed you so much. I've missed this. Us." Derek whispered into his ear.

Stiles choked on his breath when Derek thrust forward, grinding their crotches together. He licked his lips and grabbed on to Derek's shoulder. "Don't do...don't stop".

He was supposed to go the clinic and go home. He was supposed to just go home. He wasn't supposed to bump into Derek. He wasn't supposed to go back to Derek's apartment with him.

 

And he definitely wasn't supposed to be on his knees with his back arched and face mushed into a pillow as Derek fucked into him.

The feeling was so familiar. The shape of Derek cock.

The feel of it inside of him.

The unforgiving thickness of him, leaving Stiles aching, but whining for more. The way he'd get overly excited and go in too deep causing Stiles' legs to spasm. It all just felt so right.

"Stiles, y-you should hear yourself" Derek huffed. Stiles could feel Derek's hands on his ass, spreading his cheeks apart "Stiles, you should see yourself, how good you're t-taking it...."

Derek pulled all the way out and Stiles couldn't help the whimper that left him when he felt Derek's fingers go in.

"Stiles you're so pink here, god, you can probably feel everything."

Stiles couldn't form words. He just wanted more; he just wanted Derek back inside him. So he pulled himself off of Derek's finger and waggled his ass, hoping that Derek would understand.

"Still hungry for it; like always." Derek groaned.

Stiles felt a shiver go down his back, fucking Derek, always Derek.

"Shuddup' an uck' me" he mumbled into the pillow.

"As you wish." Derek chuckled. And with that he sank his cock back inside Stiles. Hissing at the way the younger man gripped around him like he never wanted to let him go.

And Derek just fucked him through it. The way he liked, the way _they_ liked.

Stiles was close to tears when Derek's hands stopped reeling him back on to his cock and the man shivered behind him. "Fuck Stiles, I'm about to...f-fuck!"

 

Stiles cried out as Derek's cock dragged over his sweet spot once more and he came underneath himself. His come splattering onto the white sheets beneath him. Untouched.

Derek pulled out and got off the bed to dispose of the condom.

"I can't believe I even had to use one of these with you".

 

Stiles rolled over onto his back and rolled his eyes.

"Twinks are really a hot commodity in New York"

Derek grimaced. "You're not a _twink_.”

"I'm definitely a twink Derek. Face it, you like fucking twinks."

Derek shook his head, sighing as he stepped into a black pair of boxer briefs.

"I like having sex, with you."

 

Stiles sat up and reached to the floor for his red briefs and scoffed, "Lots of people do."

He saw Derek stiffen from the corner of his eye and turn to face him, "Wow. Ok, you've obviously gained a lot of...sexual confidence" Derek said with a slight downturn of his lips.

"I like sex, you know this Derek."

Derek waved a hand dismissively, "Could we not talk about your sex life? I still...it bothers me."

Stiles sputtered out a laugh "Don't tell me you don't have a boyfriend."

Derek's posture shot up straight and he ran his fingers through his hair, his brows furrowing as he swallowed thickly.

"Stiles. Y-you have a boyfriend?"

 

 Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	9. Feelin' Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote all of this in two days. **TWO DAYS**. I've never written this much in such a short time frame EVER. But this story is my baby and I did it for you guys. I hope you enjoy!

If he was being honest with himself.

 Stiles knew, at the exact moment he recognized the person he had crashed into, that he was fucked.

Fucked to hell.

Because that’s what Derek did. He fucked things up. He came to Beacon Hills with his issues and his stupid face; and fucked it up. Stiles hadn’t even fucking liked him at first. He was moody, a grouch and an overall killjoy. Well until he really got to know him. Which wouldn’t have happened if Scott wasn’t such a friendly asshole. Inviting people into their thing. He couldn’t say a ‘circle’ because that would involve multiple people. Their friendship was more like a single line between the both of them.

And then Scott turned it into a triangle by introducing Stiles to Derek. Derek Hale who had finally come back from New York with his sister Laura Hale after leaving; what happened to their family was rotten and Stiles didn’t even want to think about it.

One thing led to another and they just…connected.

It was weird because anyone on the outside looking in would have sworn that they hated each other. With Derek slamming Stiles into walls whenever he could; the both of them getting into screaming matches that would literally never end until either Laura or Scott intervened. It was a very tenuous relationship, wracking between them at the drop of a dime. Until one day Derek backed him up against a wall and Stiles kissed him. Opening up the floodgates of an actual relationship.

 

Saying that they shocked everyone would be an _extreme_ understatement. Laura fucking ran in the bathroom and vomited. Stiles had taken offense and literally almost cried, until Laura informed him that the shock was just a lot for her body to handle and that she should’ve known the strife between Derek and Stiles was just unresolved sexual tension.

 Which Stiles would agree with since they hadn’t stopped fucking like rabbits since the day they kissed.

 

They were a…good couple. Very few arguments. They knew how to give and take. Nothing like Erica and her relationships. Breaking up and getting back together with the boy of the month seemingly every day. Stiles had even gotten his father to just accept that he would be in a relationship with someone who was a bit older than him.

It had taken his dad a while; but he eventually grew to like Derek. They got close.

But then they broke up and that’s when the problem happened.

 

-

 

Stiles still hadn’t answered the question.

 

About him having a boyfriend; and Derek was looking at him as if he had just committed a crime or something. So, ok, fine. This was the third time he’d cheated on Danny this week outside of his “job”. But honestly, he didn’t care anymore. The sex thing was no longer a big deal to him. Right now, at this very moment Stiles Stilinski is a free agent when it comes to sex, and he shouldn’t be judged for it.

 

“Yes, Derek” he grumbled, “I have a boyfriend.”

 

Derek sighed and sat back on his bed, still looking at Stiles like he was the worst person in the world. No. Stiles wouldn’t take the fall for this. He had told Derek that he should leave, that he wanted to leave and Derek insisted on keeping him there.

 

“Stiles. Why would you…-”

Stiles cut him off right there. “No Derek. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like you wouldn’t have wanted to have sex with me anyway.”

Derek looked over at Stiles with his lips down turned, “What?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You would’ve still had sex with me. Yes or no?”

 

Derek was definitely frowning now, “ _No_. I wouldn’t have. Stiles…you’re. You’re different.”

Stiles pulled on his shirt and got up to grab his jacket. Of course he was different.

What the fuck else was he supposed to be? The same weak kid that he was a few years ago? The kid that his dad and Derek said wouldn’t be able to support himself without them. When they had tried to make decisions for him behind his back. No, he wasn’t that person.

He grabbed his jacket up off the floor and exited Derek’s room without a word. He could hear Derek following behind him, “Stiles. Where the hell are you going?”

Stiles snorted and kept walking towards the door of Derek’s apartment.

“What do you mean where am I going?” he said turning around to see Derek standing a few feet away from him with a look between worried and confused on his face, “I’m leaving. It was nice seeing you Derek. Really.”

 

He left before Derek could say anything else.

-

 

Stiles was planning on going home. Just going home and getting some rest. It felt like he was never sleeping these days. Between stressing over getting tested and his strenuous relationship with Danny, which was crumbling, he just never had the time. Which is why when he got a text from Chris with nothing else but an address he groaned and closed the door to his and Scott’s apartment, turning on his heel and heading back outside.

 

He was half a block away from his apartment, preparing to cross the street so that he’d be on the right platform in the subway when someone wrenched the back of his shirt in their fist and slammed him chest first up against a wall.

There were no people around the block at all. Which was expected when you considered where he and Scott were living. Their apartment complex was surrounded mostly by warehouses and importing services. There was no reason for people to be in the area other than them living there in one of the two buildings that housed people, everything else for three blocks was industrial shit.

 

 

“Fuck!” He yelled when the side of his head caught on the brick building, “I don’t have any cash on me, if you want my unlimited metrocard you can ha-“, the person holding him against the wall started laughing and let him go. Stiles felt a cold shiver go down his spine when he recognized the voice. “Joseph?”

He flopped around, because that was the only way to describe it and backed himself against the wall when he saw how close Joseph was standing. His hazel eyes seemed to be glowing in the orangey pink light of the afternoon; he had a gorgeous five o’clock shadow that showcased the hollow his cheekbones created. His naturally tan skin seemed darker, sun kissed, and he had a bruise below his right eye. 

 

“Hi, Stiles. Hi _baby_...”

Stiles felt a hot flash in the middle of his chest at the term of endearment and didn’t know if it was a bad or good thing. Joseph had always called him ‘baby’ or ‘babe’ and he had oddly…really fucking liked it.

It reminded him of someone.

“Joseph…what the hell are y-“, Joseph placed his index finger on Stiles’ lips and hushed him.

“I miss you Stiles. I miss you so much.”

And now that Stiles was…moderately calm, he could smell the hint of alcohol on Joseph’s breath. It wasn’t pungent or overbearing but it was definitely there. He moved his face away from the finger pressing against his lips and inhaled through his mouth.

 

“Joseph, h-how do you know where I live?”

Joseph rolled his eyes, and looked around the area before responding, “I saw you, I was at the bar; down over there you see?” he grabbed Stiles head and physically turned his face in the direction of the long street.

Yeah, he was still very touchy feely.

Stiles couldn’t see anything but he did know from his own knowledge that there was a bar not too far away. “I saw you pass baby, and I was kinda’ nervous to just follow you…so I waited and I felt better to come see you so I...yeah.”

Before Stiles could say anything Joseph’s mouth was on his and he was tasting what seemed to be honey whiskey. The kiss was…awkward. With Joseph taking his time, slowly sucking as he let his tongue drunkenly explore the inside of Stiles’ mouth. The kiss was soft, but incredibly deep. He whimpered when Joseph forcefully turned his head to slot their mouths together to push his tongue in even further. He let his foot slide to open his legs wider when he felt Joseph’s foot knock into it. Not a moment too soon did Joseph follow up with slotting his leg in between Stiles’ thighs and rutting his knee against his crotch.

“You’re hard baby,” Joseph said, ending the kiss with a sloppy suck on Stiles’ bottom lip; reaching down and squeezing on Stiles crotch through his denim jeans. “You’ve always been so easy to get hard.”

Stiles, choked on a breath caught in his throat and “Jo-”

“You want me to make you come? I can make you come.”

Which is…different. Joseph never cared about if Stiles came or not before. He never did really. Yeah, he had given Stiles a couple of blow jobs in the beginning of their relationship but he never let Stiles top him. He’d fuck Stiles and after he came that’d pretty much be the most of it. Luckily Stiles was…sensitive, and could orgasm just from the anal stimulation. But that didn't mean he wouldn’t like for his efforts to be reciprocated accordingly.

Stiles grabbed Joseph’s hand and huffed, he was already so close and nothing had even fucking happened yet. “Joseph, no. We…we can’t.”

If Stiles ever needed a reminder of why things were always tumultuous in their relationship, he got it when Joseph shoved him back into the wall. The force causing the back of his head to knock against the brick wall behind him. Joseph was suddenly closer to his face; his chest pressed hard against Stiles', their noses inches from each other.

“Why? Why do you always _fucking_ do this!? I’m just…” He backed away and threw his hands up, “I want you back okay? I miss you.”

Stiles couldn’t help shaking his head. He knew Joseph didn’t miss him.

“You don’t miss me Joseph; you miss what I did for you. No one else will put up with your shit like I did.” He said coldly, slightly surprising himself.

Joseph’s face fell. “So…what, what do you want me to do Stiles? I’ll do anything baby. Just tell me.”

Stiles couldn’t believe his life right now.

One of his clients was best friends with his boyfriend, who he was cheating on, with two people...kind of. His ex was back in town for an undisclosed amount of time. And he had _another_ drunken ex, who was skilled in kicking heads open preventing him from getting to Chris, who he was already running ten minutes late for.

 

What a fucking week this was turning out to be.

 

“Joseph. I have somewhere to be; we can talk about this later.” Stiles said, stepping away. He had to really get going or Chris would probably blow a fuse.

“I want to talk about it now. Right now Stiles!” Joseph yelled, stomping his foot like an adolescent child, “You _never_ have any time for me. You always leave me. Like everyone else!”

Having dated Joseph for as long as he had, Stiles knew a bad situation when he saw one. And this was definitely one of them. Joseph was drunk and that was never good. It made him more reckless as time went on and if Stiles didn't diffuse this situation he’d find himself in a very nasty position.

“I’m not leaving you Joseph. I promise. Come, come on.” he reached out his hand and took Joseph’s in his own.

 

 

He ignored Joseph’s questions and drunken apologies the entire time as he led them back to his apartment building. He knew Scott wouldn’t be okay with this. But this was the only thing he could do at the moment. There was no way he was getting Joseph home in this condition and he’d really rather not have himself or another pedestrian end up in the hospital.

He’d just finished removing Joseph’s shoes when the other man sat up on his elbows, “Stiles...Stiles. I want to change for you. I want to be _better_ for you, baby.”

Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes before lightly pushing him to lie back down. “Ok, Jo. Whatever you say.”

He would have believed him; if this hadn't been the fiftieth time he’d made that promise. He sent a text to Scott telling him that Joseph was at their place in his room and not be freaked out when he saw him. Which Scott wouldn't do. He’d just wait until Stiles got back and yell at him instead.

 

-

 

Just as he knew he would be, Chris was furious that he had arrived an hour late. Which only gave them an hour to get things done. He had tried to explain his situation but Chris really didn't give a fuck. Which he made perfectly clear by being completely naked when the door to the motel room opened.

He shoved a bottle of lubrication into Stiles’ chest along with a big red dildo, which was big around the head, ribbed down the length and heavy with batteries and sat himself down on the bed. “Use that. I want to watch."

 

“Ok,” Stiles nodded, placing the things down on the nightstand and removing his clothes, “I can do that.”

 

Stiles hurriedly removed his clothes and grabbed the dildo and lube before crawling onto the bed. He looked up when he heard Chris clear his throat in a way that could only be to get his attention. “Yeah?” he asked.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Chris asked.

 

Stiles tilted his head in confusion, “I was just gonna use the dil-”

 

“You were just gonna get on the floor where you belong.” Chris grunted, pointing to the dingy, dirty burgundy carpet of the motel floor. It was flat and matted to the floor. It might as well had been hardwood with a sheet over it. But this is coming someone who got fucked behind a dumpster at one point.

 

“...Oh, ok.” he said softly, “I’m sorry daddy.”

 

Chris smiled at that. “Yeah, you are sorry.”

 

Stiles got on the floor in front of Chris who was sitting on the bed and splayed his legs open, hiking up his hips to give the older man a good view of his hole. He squirted a generous amount of lube in him palm and wiped it into the crease of his ass and against his hole. Teasing himself, pushing each of his fingers against the rim of his entrance. Before circling it with his index finger and pushing in.

 

“No.” Chris mumbled as he stroked himself, “Just stick it in. Just sit on the toy.”

 

“But Chr-daddy. Daddy it’ll hurt.” he said quickly pushing two other fingers in along with his index. He got fucked regularly so he didn't really need preparation but the head of the dildo wasn't going inside him without resistance.

 

“Aren’t you daddy’s little slut?”

 

“Yes.” Stiles whimpered grabbing the dildo, he could feel himself sinking into his comforting headspace. “I’m daddy’s slut.”

 

“Put it in Stiles.” Chris  whispered, as if he was telling him a secret.

 

“Mhmm.” Stiles hummed with a nod of his head; he reached for the dildo and poured the lubrication over it. Using a bit much, as some of it flowed over his knuckles and on to the floor.

 

“You’re making a mess.” Chris pointed out.

 

Stiles eyes widened and he looked at his hand, dripping with the lubrication.

 

“Sorry, daddy. I’m just...I don’t want it to hurt.”

 

Chris smirked, “It’s going to hurt either way.”

 

Stiles could feel his heart skip at the words,as if he was actually frightened of the toy. He lifted a his hips a bit more, placed it at his entrance and began to push it in. He watched Chris as he fed more of the dildo into his hole. The other man was stroking himself leisurely. Taking his time on the shaft, running the pads of his fingers over the large vein on the underside and fondling his balls with the other hand. Chris didn't have a huge cock. But it was long enough and thick enough to do some serious damage; if you knew how to work it. Which Chris did.

 

Stiles’ breath hitched when the ending of the head caught on the rim of his hole.

 

He started shaking his head and made to pull it out when Chris leaned forward and grabbed his hand stopping him. “I can’t-” he whimpered in protest,

 

“You want to make daddy happy right?” Chris asked.

 

Yes. “Yes. Yes, I do” he stuttered.

 

“So do it. Put it all in and make me happy.”

 

 

 

So Stiles did. He clenched his teeth and forced the rest of the dildo inside of himself. Blushing at the loud wet squelching sound of the lubrication. The head was the largest part of the dildo. Getting the rest in was easier.

 

He gasped when Chris lifted him up and onto the bed; seating him in his lap, his back against the older man’s chest. He squirmed uncomfortably when the angle of him sitting caused the dildo to slip in deeper. “Daddy, stop. I’m- I'm gonna lose it.”

Chris chuckled and reached between Stiles legs down to his hole where the toy was barely able to be seen.  “It’s almost gone, look at how you just took the whole thing.”

Stiles tried to close his legs but Chris caught his ankles with his own and kept them open. “Don’t try and hide yourself from me Stiles. I said look.” Chris purred into his ear.

“I don’t want to look at it. I’m-...embarrassed.”

“Why? Because you look like a fucking slut?” he growled,

Stiles nodded and whined when Chris pushed the dildo deeper inside and he didn't have to look to know it was all inside of him. “Yes.” he answered.

 

Stiles hissed when Chris pushed two of his fingers inside of him and pulled the dildo out mercilessly. Not stopping even when the large head caught on Stiles’ rim.

 

“Fuck!” Stiles shouted pushing back into the Chris’ chest, “you didn't even-”

And then it was in his mouth. The dildo was in his mouth and it was warm, and sticky; tasting of the bitter lubricant, and himself.

“You were late Stiles. We don’t have time to take it slow.” Chris snarled in his ear.

 

 

Stiles found himself being lowered to his hands and knees on the hard floor and received no warning as Chris pushed himself inside of Stiles. Chris began to fuck him relentlessly, reaching under Stiles arms to reel him back into his thrust.

“Daddy! P-please. It’s too mu-fuck!” Chris rammed into his prostate causing Stiles’ arms buckled beneath him as he shot his load onto the floor uncontrollably. He could barely hold himself up with his forearms, involuntarily.

 

As always Chris had unbelievable stamina and held himself off from coming for as long as possible. Stiles' whimpering, writhing and whining did nothing to deter him from fucking Stiles a new asshole.

 

"Daddy, it hurts. I- I’m sorry daddy I won't be late again. I promise.”

 

“Yeah?” Chris growled, pulling all the way out and using his thumbs to hold Stiles open and thrust back into his wet warmth. Stiles nodded as he stuffed his face in the crease of his elbow and choked out a sob, “Yes, please just come daddy; please?”

 

Chris’ rhythm faltered behind Stiles, “Shit. Come on, get up.”

 

Stiles kept his face hidden and shook his head, “Nuh uh, m’too tired.”

 

“Get up.” Chris ordered.

Stiles turned himself over and sat back on his heels as Chris stood. He hadn't even checked before to see but Chris was in fact wearing a condom, which he appreciated.

 

The older man grabbed the base of his cock and waved it in front of Stiles.

“Suck it clean, slut.”

It wouldn't be the first time Stiles did ass to mouth so he just leaned forward, licking at the worn latex before taking it deep in his mouth and sucking on the condom covered cock with intent. He caught a glimpse of Chris’ eyes fluttering and hummed around the weight in his mouth, earning him a quick jab to the back of his throat that made him gag.

Stiles choked and the cock slipped out of his mouth, a trail of saliva between him and the throbbing length. He reached out and played his fingers around the sticky string until it wrapped around his finger and he sucked it back into his mouth. Grinning up at Chris.

“I taste so good, daddy.”

 

Stiles had never seen Chris out of his stony condescending character until now, his jaw hanging open with a complete look of shock on his face. But it only lasted for a moment before he fisted his hands in Stiles hair, wrenching his head back and pulling the condom off with the other.

“O-Open your, f-fucking mouth.”

 

Stiles opened his mouth and with a few pulls to his cock Chris was coming on his tongue. Thick, warm spurts of Chris' seed landed on his tongue; murky white against the red pad of his tongue. The taste was bitter but his subspace wouldn't allow him to care. This....this was the icing on the cake.

 

He swallowed every last drop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	10. Burned Bridges

What Stiles hadn’t been expecting was to stay another hour with Chris; even after the time he allotted ran out. It wasn’t as if he had made a conscious decision to stay longer either. It just…happened. Chris got hard again and he didn’t want to stop; he was enjoying himself. Holding his legs back as the older man fucked into him, sucking his dick again and again. If he remembers correctly Chris sucked him off as well. Which was a first. They didn't stop until it literally hurt to even think about getting hard again.

 

It had been good.

Something that Stiles needed, fuck. He _deserved_ that. After the week he’d had, he’d built up so much tension; so much stress from dealing with Derek, the little run in with Jackson, that he was _still_ stressing over because he was pretty fucking sure the asshole was planning something evil, the STD scare.

It was a lot. And like it always did, sex helped him forget about it; even get over it a bit.

 

After coming in Stiles’ mouth for the sixth time Chris stumbled out of bed and wobbled into the bathroom to wash himself. Stiles reached over to where his pants always seemed to be, lying on the floor, and took his phone out. Not surprised in the least when he had three unread texts from Scott.

 

**Scott: Stiles wtf do u mean Joseph is at the palce?**

 

**Scott: WHY THE FUCK IS JOSEPH IN YOUR ROOM?**

 

**Scott: when u get bac we need to talk. Im done w/ this.**

 

Stiles sucked his teeth and threw his phone over into the pool of his jeans. What did Scott mean he was _'done with this'_? Yeah, he knew Scott would be mad at him, and that an argument would probably take place. But if Scott thought he was going to speak to Stiles like a child when he got back, he had another thing coming.

 

When Chris came out of the bathroom dressed and groomed, he didn’t throw the cash on Stiles’ naked frame as per usual, opting instead to place it on the night table beside Stiles. Leaving with a nod. Stiles hadn’t charged him extra for the random hour seeing as how Chris was risking more by knowingly staying with Stiles longer than he should have. But if Chris’ wife…or daughter hadn’t realized he was cheating by now he was sure they never would.

Stiles remained in bed until he heard Chris pull out of the parking lot. Taking a shower was definitely a thing that was going to happen. Most of the time Stiles didn’t have a problem waiting until he got home. But at the moment he had dried come all over his face, chest, stomach and inner thighs. And he was not going to travel all the way home that way.

 Especially, when he might be entering a battlefield.

 

Luckily Chris hadn’t used up all the hot water. But Stiles was pretty sure he didn’t have too long until it would start running cold. The motel they were in was shitty, seedy and things like that were to be expected. He made a mission of cleaning quickly; only taking his time in the cleft of his ass and on the sensitive skin of his dick. After the shower he got dressed swiftly and rushed out of the motel room. _Almost_ forgetting his cash on the nightstand.

Maybe Chris should keep throwing it on him.

 

-

 

When he made it back to the apartment he cringed as he met the outside of the door. From where he stood he could hear the sound of arguing. _Very loud arguing_. That would more than likely result in getting them evicted if it didn’t end soon.

Stiles fumbled with his keys before getting them in the grip and entered the apartment. To his horror the place was a wreck.

Their secondhand couch was over on its side, the coffee table shattered, fucking movies cases and broken cd’s _everywhere_. Amongst a bunch of other shit Stiles and Scott had collected over time. The living room looked as if a tornado had ran through it, save for their television.

He brought his attention to the two men standing face to face over the broken table. Joseph was standing a few inches taller than Scott with his olive green shirt torn with bruises and cuts along his waist; Scott's appearance looked pretty identical.

 

“Joe. Scott. What the _fuck_ is going on here?!?” Stiles yelled stepping in the apartment and shutting the door behind him. “Scott I told you that-”

 

Before he could finish Scott scrambled over to Stiles, chest heaving with anger and eyes dark; backing him into the bookcase they had purchased when they first moved into together. A few books fell to the floor but Scott just kicked him out of the way, bringing himself closer to Stiles.

“Why the fuck would you _leave_ him in here Stiles? I _know_ you’re an idiot, but _fuck_ …I didn’t really think you were that much of a fucking _idiot_!” Scott screamed, jabbing Stiles in the chest.

Stiles jerked his head back at the words and bit the inside of his mouth, he didn’t know what to say. He'd never dealt with Scott while he was like this. _Ever_. But before he could speak Scott slammed him up against the bookcase, causing more books to topple to the floor; bringing his face within inches of Stiles.  “Why? Why would you let your abusive, ex- _dickhead_ of a boyfriend ba-”

Scott was interrupted by Joseph coming up behind him and yanking him off of Stiles and throwing him backwards. Causing Scott to fumble and trip backwards and over the flipped couch. Stiles looked from Scott to Joseph who looked like a feral animal, on Scott in an instant. Throwing punches into Scott’s face and chest, also receiving the hits Scott was surprisingly returning.

Stiles didn’t even give himself a moment to really think before he was throwing himself into the fight; trying to separate the two. He caught a few kicks and punches to the rib, cut up his knees on the broken glass and got elbowed in the stomach by someone before he was able to divide them.

 

Scott was now bleeding out of his mouth and had a cut going up from his elbow to his wrist; Joseph had the beginnings of a black eye and glass in his knuckles from where his punches missed Scott and went into the floor. Both of their shirts were now completely torn and in tattered pieces on the floor.

Stiles held his stomach and hunched over; heaving as he looked up at the both of them.

“What the fuck is going on?” he yelled, he was standing in front of Joseph to keep him far away from Scott. To make sure he didn’t try to run over and try to get more blows in.

 

Scott felt around his jaw and spit blood out onto the already blood dirtied floor.

“I came in here and this fucking prick was in your room!” he shouted.

“Fuck you!” Joseph retorted shifting his weight behind Stiles who pushed back on the man to keep him away from Scott.

Stiles sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Scott, I _texted_ you.”

 

Scott shrugged and examined the cut on his arm, “Excuse me for not checking it soon enough. What’s your excuse Stiles? What’s your fucking excuse for taking this guy back? Huh?”

Stiles frowned. “What? Scott I didn’t take him back. He was drunk and needed a-.”

 

“Stiles! He used to _abuse_ you! Do you not remember him beating your ass?” Scott yelled as he stepped over to the kitchen and grabbed a handful of paper towels and his keys.

Stiles clenched his jaw and huffed through his nose. He was sick of Scott bringing up old stuff. Stiles had ended things with Joseph a while ago and didn’t need a fucking reminder of how their relationship had been every time his name came up. And it was never him who brought him up in conversation, but other people. He knew what type of relationship he and Joseph had. And he handled it just fine.

He broke up with him didn’t he?

“Scott.” Stiles quavered, “I’m an adult. And I live here too.”

“You’re a _what_?” Scott laughed, pressing the paper towels to his bleeding arm.

“A fucking adult. And I can make my own decisions. If I wanted to let Joseph sleep in my bed because I wanted to…well, that’s _my_ choice.”

Scott’s jaw dropped and his eyes narrowed. “You’re defending him?”

Stiles shook his head, “I’m not defending any-”

Scott looked down and shook his head; Stiles frowned when he heard a chuckle escape his best friend.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, I’m sick of being there for you when you’re only going to do whatever you want” Scott laughed coldly, now looking up and directly at Stiles. “you’re a fucking crazy slut…probably on drugs too. And Christ knows you’re an alcoholic. _I’m done_.”

And _woah_.

_Ok…_

Stiles never expected that he’d hear that from Scott. Ever in a million years. Scott had always been the one who dealt with him. Accepted him no matter what and supported whatever decisions he made regardless of how stupid they might have been. He came with Stiles to New York and they started on this journey together. And now what? Because he let his ex sleep over it was over?

 

“Scott you don’t mean that.” He choked. “You don’t!”

 

“No. I _do_ mean it,” Scott said with a shrug, “ _Something_ is wrong with you. You don’t care about anyone but _yourself_ Stiles. And if you want to ruin your own life, that’s fine; but I won’t allow you to continue destroying mine. Have fun getting _beat_ on.”

Joseph grumbled something and pushed his way past Stiles, but the younger man caught his wrist and held him as Scott left.

Scott was gone. And Stiles was officially alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	11. On The Way Down

Scott stormed out of the apartment slamming the door behind him. He was a few steps away from the elevator when he made a decision to just take the steps instead. He didn’t want to be standing helplessly in front of the elevator if Joseph decided that he wasn't done yet. And as much as he would like to constantly beat the living shit out of the guy, he wasn't sure his arm could deal with anymore fighting.

He saw that he cut along his arm wasn't _severely_ deep when he finally took a good look at it. But it was bad enough that he'd have to go to the hospital. Shit. It was his punching arm too. The force of his punches had made it split open more than it would have from just the cut alone. He held the paper towels tighter to his arm as he descended the steps and reached the lobby.

Scott knew he wouldn't want to drive in this condition, so he jogged a few blocks down until he reached a main street where taxi’s frequented. He didn't expect one to stop for him so soon on account: of here is a man, with a bleeding arm, and paper towels covered in blood. But it _is_ New York and the cab drivers here have probably seen worse than a badly cut arm.

Scott knows for a fact that he has.

  
  
He got his cell phone out of his pocket and texted his girlfriend. Allison. They had started seeing each other about two months ago and...well, had been kind of inseparable since. Something Stiles would have no clue about since he was out and about selling his body. And more than likely having sex with his abusive boyfriend who was apparently back in his life. He knew Stiles had been making bad decisions lately, but this was a whole other level. And like he had stated before.

  
He was done with it.

 

He text Allison and let her know which hospital he'd be at. Opting to wait until he was physically with her to give her the details of what had happened.

He put his phone down beside him and dropped his head back on the leather headrest of the cab. 

Trying to translate his feelings to himself was the last thing Scott wanted to do. He had allowed Stiles to take things too far. And he knew exactly why, out of his own guilt, because he's always felt like he'd played a part in Stiles ending up in this place.

Scott realized that feeling this way wasn't fair to himself, how was he supposed to know what Stiles was going through when they were kids? They were children.

He clenched his jaw, that didn't mean much today; if Scott had learned anything in his psych class it was that childhood traumas had long lasting effects that lasted into adulthood. And knowing that he was so closely connected to this drove him crazy. But he couldn't continue to live his life for Stiles. He hadn't done _anything_ , but maybe that was the problem....

 

He woke up to the loud tapping of the cab driver who was rapping his knuckles against the glass divider. He jumped up knocking the top of his head against the ceiling of the cab and let out a yelp. “Shit! I mean…sorr-”

“You asked for Mount Sinai, we're at Mount Sinai…thirty bucks. And that’s only because you did good and didn't bleed all over my seats.  Should charge you sixty.” The driver informed him, with a knowing look. Scott smiled and dug in his back pocket for his wallet as he smiled and nodded at the driver. He knew that the man wasn't lying. From where he had gotten in to his current location should cost him a pretty penny; but apparently some people in New York City _do_ have souls.

After paying, he got out the car with a hiss as his legs burned at the relief of finally being used after they'd been stuck in a singular position for the majority of the ride. It's what Stiles used to call “physical white noise.” Something about how the static appearance of a blank television looked exactly like what the prickling tingle felt like.

  
  
He walked into the entrance of the hospital with the bloody paper towels, dried and stuck to his arms. Of course, the sight of him immediately drew attention and a large security guard rushed over placing a soothing hand on his back.

“Jeez. You’re looking pretty beat up kid!” the guard announced as he ushered him over to one of the many hallways.

Scott smirked and shrugged lightly. He wasn't feeling too much pain anymore. Aside from a tooth he's pretty sure is loose, the slight throb of the cut on his other arm and the aching in his chest from Joseph’s well placed blows.

Ok, so he was hurting. But not too much. “I’m fi-”

The guard laughed and shook his head, “No sonny, don't even try to say you're fine. Ya’ got bloody papers stuck your arm and you look like you got the fuck beat out of you.”

Scott snorted, “You should see the other guy.”

The guard gave him a thumbs up and a pat on the back before taking him down the hallway that led to the ER.

-

It had been an hour since Scott left; and no matter how many times Stiles called he wouldn't pick up. So after the eighth time he stopped calling and occupied himself with getting Joseph cleaned up. There were cuts and bruises all over the man; plus his left eye was beginning to bruise. Stiles had him sitting on the toilet in the bathroom as he rummaged through the medicine cabinet for tweezers. Tweezers he _knew_ they had because of the one time Scott had gotten an ingrown hair in his armpit and some article Stiles found online said tweezers were a thing he could use to fix it or whatever.

It had been a _long_ night.

“I know they're in here _somewhere_.” He mumbled to himself as he moved around pill bottles, boxes of allergy meds and Scott’s inhalers.

“Stiles, baby, I'm oka-”

“You're not okay. And since you won’t let me take you to the hospital I have to fucking do the best I can with household shit! … _Got them._ ” He announced as he found the tweezers behind a pack of toothbrushes. Stiles had a thing where he accidently knocked his toothbrush into the toilet all the time, so Scott being forever responsible, bought him extra toothbrushes. He felt a shiver go down his back and pushed Scott from his mind as he sat down on the cold floor in front of Joseph and held his palm.

“Give me your hand.”

Joseph grimaced and was about to shake his head when Stiles reached out and took his wrist anyway,

“You have _glass_ stuck in your knuckles. I have to get them out.” He muttered as he inspected Joseph’s knuckles before honing in on the largest shard of glass, “This might hurt.” He warned as he began to pick out the larger pieces first; Joseph had always been a hardass so Stiles knew he wouldn’t hiss or even remotely react to the pain he _had_ to be feeling.

They sat in silence. With just the sounds of Stiles grumbling in frustration as the pieces got harder to get and the slight huff of Joseph’s breathing. Stiles preferred it like this. He really didn't care to know about what had happened anymore. And he didn't want to talk about Scott either. He just wanted to sit here, and fucking pick glass out of Joseph’s knuckles as he pretended it didn't-

“He called you an alcoholic. _Why?_ ” Joseph asked, breaking the silence after Stiles reached for his other hand.

Stiles shook his head dismissively and put a scrutinizing face on in inspection of the hand. “Don’t.”

Joseph snatched his hand away, and Stiles sighed. “Tell me why he said that. You were never the drinking type.”

“Because I guess I like to fucking drink now okay?!” he shouted snatching Joseph’s arm back. He appreciated when the other man seemingly dropped the subject and let Stiles finish on his other hand. But the damage had already been done and he couldn't help but replay what Scott had said to him over and over again.

_a fucking crazy slut_

_you're_ _an alcoholic_

_I’m done_

Stiles felt a rush of heat flow through his body and swallowed thickly. It’s not like he hadn’t known that Scott had thought those things about him. He knew that Scott had only been enduring him. Pitying him and holding on to some fucked idea that he needed to stay with Stiles. Probably because they had been friends for so long. _Had been._

But there it was. How Scott _really_ felt about him. All out on the table. He couldn't help but feel like he deserved it. He _knew_ he deserved it.

“I'm done.” he grumbled, getting up and tugging Joseph’s arm with him signing for the man to stand. He reached for the hydrogen peroxide he had taken out of the medicine cabinet and motioned for Joseph to hold his hands out over the sink.

“If this shit gets all over the floor and rug it’ll bleach and Sco-…” he paused and cleared his throat, ignoring the look coming from Joseph “just put your hands in the sink.”

“You're so sexy when you order me around, baby.” Joseph purred, holding his hands out.

Stiles ignored the warm ball of heat in his belly and slowly poured the peroxide over the wounds, jumping at the unexpected “FUCK!” that burst out of Joseph.

After Stiles applied ointment and got Joseph’s hand bandaged up he pulled the taller man along by his hand into the small kitchen. He got a bag of peas out the freezer and gently placed them on Joseph’s bruised eye.

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” He whispered “I leave you alone for three hours and you’re fighting my best friend and _trashing_ my place. What the hell Joe?” he pressed the peas a little closer to the bruise and rolled his eyes when Joseph winced.

And then the other man was placing his hand on top of Stiles’ and staring at him.

“I’m sorry…baby.” He sighed, leaning in closer.

Stiles tried to slowly pull his hand away from Joseph’s face but the other man just tightened his grip over it. “Jos-”

“Stiles. You don't have to be ashamed.”

Stiles looked at where his hand was being held and narrowed his eyes, “Ashamed of what?” he asked softly.

“Ashamed of wanting me back; ashamed of _liking_ sex,” Joseph replied quickly, “Ashamed of loving how it feels to get fucked.” He whispered as he stepped into Stiles space, sliding his hand around Stiles’ waist and down his back to grab at his ass.

Stiles could feel his heart skip a beat and his mind screaming at him that this was _wrong_. That he shouldn't be feeling what he was feeling. He couldn't continuously use sex as an out could he? To relish in the few minutes or short hours of pleasure only to be faced with all his problems again after the euphoria wore off. He reached back to grab at Joseph's wrist only to grunt when he was backed up against the counter; Joseph leaning in and mouthing at his jaw.

“I remember how much you loved it Stiles. Never getting enough. Always wanting more and more. You _love_ getting fucked.” He chuckled as he kissed up Stiles’ jaw and licked into his mouth.

And Stiles let him.

He was past caring. This was his life.

And he didn’t know if this feeling was a good or bad thing. But he was over it.

He was sick of being sad and walking around on eggshells around Scott or _anyone else_ for that matter. Like before, he was a _free_ agent and he could do whatever he wanted. So he kissed back, and he let Joseph push him up against the closest wall and slot his knee between his legs.

The sound of broken glass and scattered objects beneath their feet being crushed and stumbled upon made him giggle into Joseph’s mouth, pulling a smile from the other man as he picked Stiles up and carried him into his bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	12. This Fucking Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW I KNOW I KNOW.
> 
> Don't even say it! Ok? It's been forever! 
> 
> I just lost my mojo ok? And I was doing life stuff. And then Ariana Grandé happened. And everything just took priority!

Stiles woke up to a beam of a sunlight coming through the blinds, settling on his eyes. He grunted and rose slowly, swaying lightly, he definitely had a hangover. 

 

Through his bleary vision he could make out Joseph’s naked body beside him. The other man was cuddled up with all of the pillows on Stiles’ bed, leaving none for him, and sleeping sound. Stiles yawned as he stepped out of bed and made his way to the bathroom; stepping on articles of clothing, snack wrappers, empty bottles of different alcoholic beverages and other things that had gathered on the floor. The bathroom didn't look  _any_  better once he turned the light on. 

He ignored the mess, continued with his morning pee and brushed his teeth before coming back out. Joseph was now sitting up, boxers on, rubbing at his eyes drowsily.

“What fucking time is it?” He yawned.

Stiles shrugged.

“How don’t you know what time it is?” Joseph asked getting up out the bed, tripping over a bottle and tumbling into Stiles; knocking them both to the floor. 

Stiles fell back awkwardly on his wrist causing a sharp pain to shoot up his arm as it slipped from under him and his face hit the floor. 

"Shit!" He shouted as he sat up, and inspected his wrist, it wasn't broken, but it hurt like a mother. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You jack ass!"

 Joseph got up off the floor and frowned. "What?"

Stiles got up, cradling his left hand with his right and pushed passed Joseph into the bathroom to wrap his wrist up. "Do you have short term memory loss or are you really just that stupid?"

"Stiles it was an accident. You're acting like I did it on purpose" Joseph laughed, as he stood beside Stiles and reached for his toothbrush.

Because yeah. They fucking live together now. 

So he has a toothbrush.

 

Stiles hadn't even really meant for this to happen. But with the way Scott had left, and the fact that the rent was due the week after the big fight, Stiles needed to find someone to pay the second half. Which Joseph did. 

Yeah, he could've probably made up the cash with a few nights out on the street but he hadn't  _felt_  like it. He didn't feel like having some creep kiss up on his neck, digging in his pants in the back of a musty minivan. Whispering in his ear about how hard they were going to fuck him.

 

He also hadn't had a moment away from Joseph either. The longest they'd stayed apart from each other since the fight is when Joseph went to rent a moving truck to bring his stuff to Stiles' place. 

He had missed calls from Chris, Peter, Jackson and even a voicemail from an unfamiliar number that he'd yet to listen to.

It was just that Joseph wouldn't let him get further than an arms length away. 

If they weren't in bed fucking the time away, they were in the living room eating each others faces off and if  _that_  wasn't happening they were doing some really creative things in the kitchen.

It felt nice.

To have someone again. To not be unclaimed. 

Yeah, Peter had kind of claimed him as "his" but that was mostly in their scenes. Peter barely indulged him outside of them no matter how much he tried. 

Things were great for the most part. For the moment.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes as he wrapped up his arm. 

"Maybe if you cleaned up around here that wouldn't have happened," He sighed. Making sure to not look at Joseph,focusing on himself in the mirror "It's not like you  _do_  anything else."

Before Joseph could say anything he left back into the bedroom and began picking up the trash off the floor. 

Now, Stiles wasn't the neatest person in the world. He was used to his room being a mess seventy percent of the time. But it was only  _his_  mess. A few shirts here and there. The occasional soda bottle or whatever snacks got lost under his bed.

But now he was dealing with his mess and Joseph's mess combined. And it wasn't easy to look at. It looked like a whirlwind of crap. Clothes of top of clothes. Candy wrappers, chip bags, soda and liquor bottles everywhere.  

It was disgusting at this point.

"Joe! Get out here and help me. I didn't make this mess myself!" He yelled while trying to collect as many articles of clothing as he could in his arms.

Joseph came out a moment later, and sat on the bed. The exact opposite of what Stiles wanted from him.

This was all so _very_ familiar.

"Stiles, relax." Joseph yawned, running his fingers through his bed hair.

Stiles shook his head and threw the clothes he'd gathered to one side of the room.

"No. It's been like this for weeks! It doesn't even matter if I put my stuff away because you pull  _everything_  out when you look for your clothes and you  _never_  put them back." Stiles argued.

"Fine, I'll start putting my shit away, ok baby?" Joseph sighed.

Stiles took the last of the clothes and dropped them in the pile. "Don't 'baby' me Joe. How about instead of saying it you actually  _do?"_

"I said I was going to change for you right?"

Stiles sighed and scratched his head, "Yes, but-"

"And have I changed for you?" Joseph interrupted, cocking his head to the side.

"Y-yeah, you have." Stiles stuttered, he didn't like how Joseph was looking at him, like he was daring Stiles to challenge him. But Stiles wasn't just going to back down. If they were going to make this work Joseph needed to see the  _whole_  picture.

 "Joseph, there's more than...there's more than  _that_ , that we need to work on." He affirmed from where he stood.

Joseph's face stayed the same for a moment. The same odd look on his face, the look Stiles didn't like. 

"Fine," Joseph grumbled and rose from the bed, " _whatever_. I'll help."

Stiles shook his head and put his hand out to stop the taller man. 

"Don't help me just because you want to shut me up."

Joseph roughly smacked his hand away and brushed passed him on his way out the room, mumbling something under his breath as he went.

Stiles stood as still as a statue, his heart beating a mile a minute.

He wouldn't lie to himself. That minuscule show of aggression frightened him. It scared him. 

He'd...

He'd been hit by Joseph before. A few times. And they...they had been accidents. Ok?

 

Joseph would come home from a bar after winning a fight and his head would still be in the ring. It wouldn't help that he'd have alcohol in his system. 

One thing would lead to another and...

 

\--

It had been a very long day at the firm.

 

A  _very very,_  long day. Stiles had been running back and forth between offices, filing different cases and documents for the attorneys at Richards & Co. Delivering messages between them, because apparently _he_ was better than email. He'd been answering phones. Setting up appointments, getting breakfast  _and_  lunch from different restaurants across the city because everyone wanted something different and he was _tired_.

It had been like this everyday for the past week. The lawyers at the firm were preparing to go on a spur of the moment vacation and needed to have everything cleaned up and organized before they left.

Which meant that pretty much Stiles was the one doing the cleaning and organizing.

But he wasn't going to complain. He had gotten the job because of Joseph, his family ran the firm and he had gotten Stiles in and he was grateful for it; seeing as how in this economy it was next to impossible to find employment anywhere. 

Especially before even having a degree of some sort. But he was managing.

With this job. 

 

So yeah, it had been a long day. And he was looking forward to getting home and just sleeping his life away for the next week and a half he had off while the attorneys were away, because yeah, he wasn't invited to go on vacation with them.

Joseph's family wasn't really...fond of him, to say the least. But he didn't care. He was dating Joseph, not them.

 

His work day had ended around eight at night. Way later than usual, but today had been an exception for all things. Because he lived a way out he didn't get home until late into nine.

After dragging himself through the door he forced himself to walk past the couch that he so badly wanted to fall  into, and into the bedroom. 

Needless to say he was out before he even hit the bed.

 

He frantically woke up to the loud sound of the apartment door slamming and to what sounded like Joseph speaking to himself. He immediately looked over to the nightstand to see that it was only two in the morning. 

 

_Two in the morning._

_Front door slamming._

_Boyfriend._

_Shit...._

Joseph had a match tonight and he had forgotten all about it. He had been stupid, and forgot.

Stiles dropped his face into his hands and pouted. He was still so exhausted and he really didn't posses the energy to deal with one of Joseph's pissy fits. He'd just have to understand. 

 

He sat up in the bed and listened to Joseph move around the apartment. A few steps and then the fridge opened, the sound of a cup being set on the counter. A bit more mumbling. And then soon after steps approached the bedroom.

Joseph opened the door and leaned against the threshold. He was wearing a brown leather jacket, deep green v-neck with black jeans. His had a few bruises and cuts on his face and chest but he didn't look too bad. He had obviously won the fight. 

"Hello.  _Stiles_." He drawled, spinning the ice in his drink with his index finger.

Stiles already knew what was coming. And he _really_ didn't want to argue with Joseph. He was just going to apologize and go back to bed. 

"Joe, I'm sorry ok?" He sighed, "I totally forgot about your fight and I was so ti-"

" _Tired_?" Joseph interrupted. Looking into his drink.

Stiles shook his head and flexed his fingers; he  _really_  didn't want to argue but there was no use in trying to avoid it.

"Yes. I'm tired. Ok? Your family is running me into the ground. I do  _everything_  at that firm, ok? I file the documents. I  _take_  and  _make_  the calls. I work the transcripts. I get the fucking breakfast and lunch for them. Oh, and I had to walk Michael's  _dog_  the other day because he fired his dog walker. Did I mention that no one bothered to invite  _me_  out on their little getaway vacation even though I've been working there for a year? So yes, Joseph. I'm  _tired_. And I'm sorry I missed your match."

Stiles sighed and crossed his arm. He hadn't meant to unload like that. But he needed to explain his side. Apparently Joseph didn't care because he chuckled and took a sip of his drink. 

"So this is my family's fault?" He asked, "It's  _their_  fault that you're struggling to do  _your job_?"

Stiles gaped and frowned, "Are you fucking kidding me right now?"

Joseph shrugged. 

"Walking your cousins dog isn't my  _fucking_  job. Getting them breakfast isn't my fucking job! But I do it! For you and-"

"You were  _supposed_  to be at my fight today!" Joseph shouted, his voice booming over Stiles'. " _That's_  what you were supposed to do! But you're a selfish little prick who only thinks about yourself!"

Stiles couldn't believe what he was hearing. As hard as he worked everyday to make sure he was bringing in money and not just relying on Joseph. As hard as he tried to get his stupid family to like him or even appreciate him, this was what he got in return? A late night argument about how selfish he was? 

Fuck no.

"Fuck you, Joe!" Stiles threw the sheets off of himself and stormed out the bed to the closet; getting his suitcase. He wasn't going to stay here tonight or for the rest of his vacation for that matter. He knew without a doubt Scott wouldn't mind him staying over for a week and some; they hadn't seen each other for awhile and it'd be great to catch up.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Joseph asked when Stiles opened up his suitcase. 

"Out." Stiles responded, "Away from here. Away from  _you_." He stood up and reached for random articles of clothing, shirts, jeans some sweatpants. The room was silent while he packed his things. Joseph just standing in the doorway. Glaring at him while he went back and forth between his suitcase and closet. It was only when he made to leave the room when Joseph stepped in his way, preventing him from walking out.

"You're going to see your little boyfriend aren't you? Gonna go fuck around with him some more?" 

Stiles' heart skipped a beat and he closed his eyes; releasing a breath he looked up into Joseph's eyes.

"Why do you _always_ do this?"

Joseph shook his head and clenched his jaw. "Answer the question Stiles. Come on, since you have so much to fucking say. You gonna go slut around? I know that's what you do when I'm not around."

Stiles bit his lip and looked away. He was so sick of this. He looked up, Joseph was taller than him but he was still able to make eye contact.

"I think you have me mistaken with _you_.  _You're_  the one who goes out and fucks around _every time_ something goes wrong. That's you. Not me. So if you could stop projecting your fucked up insecurities on me that'd be gr-"

 

He didn't know he'd been hit until he felt the carpet under his hands. He didn't feel the pain until he saw the blood dribbling from his mouth. 

Joseph had hit him.

In his face.

Joseph's mouth was moving but he could barely make out the words with the sudden ringing in his ears. The room was spinning and his face was wet with what had to be Joseph's drink. 

His eyes were burning. _Everything_ was wrong.

And he was terrified.

"You're going to learn how to talk to me babe. You're going to _learn_ how to curve your fucking mouth when it comes to me." Joseph said with a nonchalant shrug.

Stiles couldn't respond. He just spit out more blood and tried to crawl away from Joseph's blurry form.

He didn't move fast enough because Joseph was on him in an instant. Grabbing him up by his collar and pulling him up so that they were face to face. Stiles could smell the thick scent of alcohol on his breath. He could see how his pupils were dilated.

"Awww, baby your lip. It's busted. Your pretty lips are all ruined." Joseph crooned menacingly. 

Stiles shook his head and tried to push Joseph away. But the room was still spinning and he felt weak. 

"What? No more?" The other man asked; brushing Stiles' hair out of his face. "Come on, I _barely_ touched you." Joseph laughed. 

He was laughing. 

He was laughing and Stiles couldn't help the tears that fell from his eyes.

"Now here's what's going to happen. You're going to unpack all that shit and get back in bed ok?"

Stiles shook his head. No. He didn't want to unpack his stuff. He didn't want to be anywhere near Joseph. 

"N-No." He choked out, blood drooling down his chin.

No sooner than the word left his mouth was a hand fisted tightly in his hair. Pulling and dragging him towards the suitcase. "Take your shit out the bag Stiles."

Stiles, unable to fight back and in fear of having his hair torn out reached for his clothes, taking them quickly out of the suitcase.

"Now was that so hard?" Joseph taunted, releasing Stiles' hair.

Stiles shook his head and wiped at his eyes. 

" _Speak_." Joseph demanded.

"I-It wasn't hard."

He heard Joseph hum in approval and felt as though he'd be sick. This couldn't be happening to him.

"Now get in bed babe. Go..." Joseph burped and scratched his head after letting him go,

"Go clean yourself up first.  _Then_  get in bed." He sang drunkenly before kicking off his shoes and climbing in the bed himself.

Stiles made to get up and stopped when Joseph sat back up to face him. The other man looked confused, like there was a problem he couldn't figure out. "Why did you get it to this point Stiles? Why do you always fuck things up?"

Stiles just stood there unable to say anything, not knowing what to say. What  _could_  he say?

It  _was_  his fault.

  
_He_  had forgotten about Joseph's match. It was his  _fault_  for getting in Joseph's face and yelling at him like that.

"I'm....I'm sorry. I'll try to-"

"Try to what Stiles?"

Stiles flinched and looked away. "I'll try not to fuck things up. I'll try to be better for you."

"That's what I like to hear baby." Joseph whispered, getting off the bed and coming to stand in front of Stiles who was still looking away.

Stiles didn't fight it when Joseph lightly took hold of his chin and turned his head to face him.

"Look at me baby."

Stiles looked up. Into Joseph's hazel eyes.

"Go get cleaned up. You're bleeding all over the carpet." 

 

Stiles didn't wait another second to leave the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


	13. FML

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had absolutely no clue that I hadn't updated since AUGUST. Oh my god, you guys, if you hate me a little bit I understand.
> 
> I tried to make this chapter as long as possible just for you all. I'm already working on the next one and it will be posted this month.
> 
> Pink promise. <3

Stiles woke to the motion of someone sitting on his side of the bed, Joseph, sitting down on his side of the bed. He could barely make out what the other man was dressed in. It seemed to be his usual sporty gear; a backpack hanging off his shoulder, open fingered gloves, one of Stiles' scarves and a pair of ray-bans. This had been the first time Stiles had ever seen Joseph up and dressed before himself.

"Hi," He sighed, turning his head into his pillow; trying to avoid the harsh sunlight assaulting him from the wide windows in the room.

"Where you goin'?" He yawned.

He felt fingers run through his hair and couldn't help but moan at how good it felt.

"I have to train at The Ring." Joseph answered.

Stiles raised his brows; he was familiar with The Ring. It was one of the local boxing gyms in the city. One of the most popular too; most of the big fights took place there. Stiles wasn't a stranger to it either, he had been a few times to see Joseph fight or train.

It was a pretty chill place outside of fighting hours.

"Got a fight coming up?" Stiles asked turning his head back. Joseph nodded.

"I'll see you maybe tomorrow. I'm gonna’ be there all day today. And I've gotta’ stay the night there too, this Ross guy hasn't lost one fight since his come up. And I'm not about to risk it."

Stiles sat up and smirked. "I'm sure you'll beat him."

Joseph let out a snort and leaned in placing a chaste kiss on Stiles' lips. "I'll see you soon okay?"

"Mhmm. See you later."

Joseph kissed him again on the forehead, got up and left. Stiles waited for the apartment door to shut before falling back asleep.

 

 When he woke up it was the first time in a while he had been faced with the left side of the bed being empty. He had grown so accustomed to having Joseph in his bed for the last few weeks that it felt a little odd. Like a part of him was missing.

Which was a bit weird; because when Joseph was around, Stiles could only describe him as a thorn in his side. But he was already missing his presence.

 

 Stiles brushed at his eyes and sat up. This had been the first time he had been alone in _general_. Not just with Joseph missing from his space, but Scott as well.

 

Even from his johns.

He had cut off contact from everyone. And it's not like he did it on purpose. Joseph was just overwhelming ... _consuming_.

He didn't have time for anything else but the other man. And now that he would be alone for the next two days he didn't know what to do with himself.

He looked at his phone across the room, sitting on his cluttered dresser with empty Chinese takeout cartons, empty spray-on deodorant cans and a bunch of other accumulated shit.

He hadn't made a phone call in weeks. Hadn’t spoken to his dad in god knows how long. Hadn't even sent a text. He didn't even know if the fucking thing worked anymore.

Stiles stumbled out of bed and over to the dresser; picking up the phone and hitting the home button to see that the phone was, in fact, dead.

He looked around on the floor for a few minutes before finding his charger under the bed and plugging it up.

The screen lit up with the picture of an empty battery, basically indicating that it would take some time before the phone fully powered on.

Fucking iPhones.

Stiles stretched his arms and yawned, figuring that he might as well go ready himself for whatever he might decide to do with his day.

In the middle of washing his face he heard his text alarm blaring in the bedroom.

And it was going fucking crazy.

One after the other the texts kept coming in. Stiles finished washing his face and entered the bedroom as he dried his face with a soft towel. He sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed his phone.

**21 missed calls**

**34 missed texts**

"Jesus fuck." He whispered as he scrolled through the abundance of missed calls and text messages.

His eyes widened as he realized who the majority of the calls and texts were from.

 

 

 

In all the time he had been with Joseph he had completely and _totally_ forgotten about the person he was _supposed_ to be in a relationship with. He hadn't purposefully just...dropped Danny. Things just happened.

And to be honest, he doesn't deserve Danny. Danny was kind, smart, funny and gorgeous. He'd give the shirt off his back if he thought someone else needed it more than him. And Stiles...

"He's too good for me." Stiles said to the light blue walls surrounding him.

Figuring it'd be easier to just break it off cleanly Stiles sends Danny a text message.

**I'm alive. I'm sorry. I don't deserve you. Take care of yourself.**

Stiles stared at this message for a while before sighing and moving on past Danny's missed calls and texts. He had two missed calls from Scott three from Erica. One call from Chris, a call from Peter and two calls from unknown numbers.

He immediately deleted the voicemails from Danny, opting to just not deal with that. He did listen to voicemail from Scott though.

**_"Hey, Stiles. Uhmm. It's Scott. Uh, yeah. Danny called me. Just checking on you. He's kind of worried so just...just give me a call back or something. Ok, bye."_ **

Stiles winced. There was no _bro_ , or _bud_.  He could practically smell the awkwardness and unease in Scott's voice. This isn't a call he wanted to make. He probably couldn't care less about what happened to Stiles.

He just felt obligated.

Stiles settled back in the bed and listened to the rest of his voicemails. Chris left a short message, angrily telling Stiles that he needed to call him back as soon as possible.

Stiles giggled to himself. Chris was probably dying on the inside, you know? With not being able to fuck his wife like she was some prostitute and all.

Erica left him a heavily worded voicemail. Even asking him about his reconciliation with Joseph, and he didn't want to fucking deal with that shit storm either.

One of the voicemails sent him for a loop though. The number was unfamiliar to him. But the voice wasn't.

It was Derek.

**_"Hey, it's Derek. Uh, Erica gave me your number. Don't kill her or anything, please. Stiles I..."_ ** _There was a heavy huff before Derek continued **"this is my number. Just call me back soon, ok? Alright, bye."**_

 

"What a way to start the morning." Stiles mumbled, as he debated on whether or not he wanted to listen to the next voicemail.

He decided on yes.

The call started out with complete silence. And then with the sound of a door closing or something. He was just about to end the voicemail, figuring he’d been butt dialed by a stranger when someone spoke up.

 ** _"H-Hello? Stiles? Yeah, I think that's his name...."_** Stiles looked at his phone and narrowed his eyes. The person on the other line sounded so meek. **_"So uh....my friend Boyd gave me your number. Apparently his friend uhm..Jackson, I think? Gave him your number; and now I have it."_**

Stiles huffed, wasn't a voicemail supposed to be short? And what ever happened to _privacy_ between clients?

**_"...Shit. I only have a few seconds left. Uhmm...basically...I was told you're really good with...sexual stuff. And I'd really like some help. I'm willing to pay."_ **

 

  1. As if Stiles even worked for free.



**_"My name is Isaac you can call me back at this nu-"_ **

 

The voicemail cut him off. Stiles saved the received number. Isaac or whoever seemed a bit...awkward. But money was starting to run low and the more clients the better.

 

Of course after deciding on making breakfast he was presented with the fact that there was only a half-bottle of flat orange soda, a rotten tomato and a stale bag of wheat bread that Stiles never got around to throwing out.

He could've sworn they at least had some fucking bacon. And it wasn't like he could just go grocery shopping because, _money_.

 

So whatever, he'd have to work today. And it would be perfect seeing as how Joseph wouldn't be around. He still hadn't come out to Joe about his line of work, yes, _line of work_. And he kind of didn't plan on it, actually.

He had two days to spare, he could fuck his way through a few guys, get his pockets stuffed to last him at least two or three months for groceries, plus his phone bill and rent.

If he even had any clients left. Hell, he might even convince himself to call Jackson to set up a..."party". With the type of friends he's bound to have, Stiles wouldn't have to work for months if he managed his pay off right.

But back to being hungry, which was something that definitely had to be taken care of.

The nearby mom & pop pancake joint was sounding very good.

 

 

Stiles was working on his third mega chocolate chip pancake when his phone rang.

_Fucking Danny._

He should've known he wouldn't just let it go. Just let Stiles cut it clean with a text message. No, he had to be fucking....fucking _Danny_ and call him. He let the phone ring two more times before deciding on answering it. "H-hello? ...Danny?"

**_"Stiles are you fucking kidding me? Are you shitting me right now? A text message? You send me a text message telling me it's over like some fucking prick?"_ **

And, ok. This wasn't what Stiles expected. Not from Danny, not the docile, _sweet_ guy who wouldn't even let Stiles blow him in a public bathroom. Not the guy who wouldn't even look sideways at a cat if it clawed his face up.

"Danny, I'm _sorry_." He said, turning down the volume on his phone, Danny's little outburst had attracted some attention.

**_"You're sorry? Sorry? I haven't heard from you in weeks. No one in school has seen you. You're fucking lucky that we went on break a week after your little vanishing act or you would have failed the entire semester."_ **

Stiles frowned and felt his nose flare. He didn't need this from Danny. Who was he? His fucking _father_?

"What I do with _my life_ is _my_ business." He said sharply, setting a three dollar tip on the table as he left.

 ** _"You're a fucking loser! You don't even have a life! Scott told me about you!"_** Danny shouted over the phone.

 

And Stiles' heart dropped. Scott told him. Scott told Danny about what he does. How could-

**_"He told me you got back with your ex. The same one who did all those horrible things to you. You left me, for that?"_ **

Ok. So Scott hadn’t told him.

"People change, Danny. Ok? He's different now. He's better."

He hears Danny chuckle on the other line and frowns,

 "What's so fucking funny?" He asks angrily. Because he's _over_ this. This is why he didn't call Danny back, this is what he wanted to avoid.

**_"Your life's a fucking mess. That's what's funny. You're on a downward spiral and you don't even see it. Everyone else does but you."_ **

And _that_ gets Stiles blood boiling ** _,_** "Yeah? My life's on a downward-... I fucking slept with _four_ other guys when I was with you."

"What?" He hears Danny say.

"Yeah, and you didn't even fucking know. Oh, and you might want to _rethink_ your group of friends seeing as how it was one of them. Have a nice life!" He hangs up before Danny can say another word.

He can feel the warm blood in his cheeks against the cold air. There's a woman standing by the bus stop looking at him and shaking her head. Judging him. He's even sure he hears one of the little children waiting for the bus mutter something like _"cocksucker"_ under their breath.

He walks off, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. Fuck them.

 

He finds himself in one of the most awful places in the city.

 42nd street. He knows he could’ve done shopping in other areas of the city, but Soho and Chelsea are run by small boutiques that charge a shitload of money for picture frames. And he didn't have a million dollars to spend on a picture frame.

Joseph would probably look at him like he was crazy if he gifted him with one anyway. Yeah, he was shopping for Joseph. But not for just any random reason. Joseph's fight was coming up. And he wanted to get him something special, a present or whatever. Just a token of gratitude to show that he actually does care.

 

And then his phone rings again.

He has half a mind to throw it into the street and watch every taxi in the city run over it. But he doesn't. Because he's buying Joe a present and he won't have the money for a new phone after.

Or at least until he meets up with a john. And even then....he still won't want to buy a new phone.

He looks at the caller ID and its Isaac. The nervous guy who caused him to suffer from secondhand embarrassment while he listened to his voicemail.

He answers, because why not?

 

"Yo.", because screw formality.

**_"Uh, hello? Stiles?"_ **

"Speaking."

**_"Oh hey! I'm Isaac I called you like a few day-"_ **

"I know. I got your message today. I'm down for whatever."

**_"Down for...oh! Sex stuff."_ **

Stiles snorted. This guy was something else. "Yeah, _sex stuff_." He repeated, eyeing a watch from a store display window.

 ** _"Yeah..."_** Isaac whispered nervously.

"So, when are we gonna’ meet up?" Stiles asked. Clearly he needed to take the reins on this one.

**_"Hmmm....I could meet you today."_ **

Stiles thought about it, he could spend another hour looking around and he'd pretty much be free.

"Sure, I have a motel I use to host and do house calls."

**_"Yeah, could you come here? I have uh...toys and stuff."_ **

Stiles' smirks as he enters the jewelry store; the watch will be perfect.

"Sure. What's your address?"


	14. Some Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets Isaac!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU GUYS THROW YOUR TOMATOES AT ME I'VE EXPLAINED MY ABSCENCE [HERE ](http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/post/128238107377)!!!!
> 
> eNjoy this chapter! plZ

Finding Isaac’s apartment hadn’t been difficult.

The difficult part was him getting Isaac to stop stuttering and tripping over words after Stiles set foot into his apartment.

Isaac lived in what Stiles liked to call _‘The Artfart Area’_ ; which was simply lower Manhattan. The area was known for being the spot where all the best and struggling artsy types went to stride around as if they were god’s gift to the planet. Each one of them believing themselves to be the next Andy Warhol.

Needless say it wasn’t Stiles’ most favorite place in the city. Everything was extremely overpriced, the odor of cigarettes and cigars soaked every corner and the superior attitudes were just unbearable. He could’ve sworn a bum turned their nose up at him.

Which is why Isaac’s meekness was a surprise to Stiles. He’d expected a more Jackson-esque demeanor from the guy. He was everything but though. Isaac was taller than Jackson by a foot and half, he had a very similar twinkish build to Stiles; but more muscular. _Fucking Disney prince material._

“Could your eyes be any bluer?” Stiles asked when Isaac opened the door.

His apartment was literally the loftiest place he’d ever been in his life. The place looked like something out of an Anne Hathaway rom-com. High ceilings, chalky brick walls, exposed piping. _The works_. It was decorated with paintings, _which explained the hard acrylic scent_ , and ancient looking statues that definitely _did not_ come from bootleggers on street corners. The appliances and interior were very updated which gave a nice retro but modern quality. The place had to cost a _kidney_ a month.

Stiles rolled his eyes, _great_. Another trust fund baby he had to deal with.

“Excuse the mess, _uhm_ I was painting before you showed up." Isaac said as he closed the door behind himself, quickly running his color spotted hands through his wavy blonde hair.

“The mess? If _this_ is a mess my place is a garbage dump.”  Stiles joked, taking his coat off and handing it to Isaac; as he walked deeper into the loft. There was a giant king sized bed with royal red and brown bedding that matched the bricked walls. There were painting canvases throughout the space. Some looked complete; and others that were half done or blank.

Stiles opted for ignoring the paintings and hopping on the massive bed; he was here on business. Not for an fine art viewing.  He started pulling his shirt off.

“So, where are the toys? You want to top or bottom?” he asked, kicking off his shoes.

Isaac’s jaw dropped and he put both his hands up as if surrendering to a firing squad,

“Wait! Stop! Keep your clothes on!”

Stiles was just beginning to yank his pants down when Isaac’s yelling shocked him. It was the first time he heard the other guy speak above a whisper. Though he couldn’t have heard him right.

 “ _Stop?_ ”

“Yes, please! I- I didn’t call you to have sex.”

“You realize that this is what I do right?” Stiles asked with an inquisitive look, “Why else would you call me?”

Isaac shuffled over and wiped at his face leaving a smudge of blue paint on his cheek before sitting on the bed. “I….I called you because I’m terrible at sex.”

Stiles shrugged, “Ok? So let’s fuck, I’ll make it good.”

Isaac shook his head, “You’re not understanding.”

“I’m _really_ not; so why don’t you help me understand, dude. I have places to be.”

Isaac looked up from his hands and at Stiles, “I was hoping you could show me how to…I don’t know be good at sex.”

“Without having _actual_ sex with me?”

“Yeah. That’s kind of why I said I had toys.”

Stiles’ eyes widened, “Oh, my god! Are you a _virgin_!?”

Isaac chuckled softly, looking Stiles’ in his eyes; which, could the guy be any more fucking adorable?

“No. I have a fiancée; and we’ve had sex but… _don’t worry about it_ ; I just need help. _Okay_?”

“Well, this is a first” Stiles joked while pulling his shirt back over his head, “but yeah, this seems alright. I’d say I’m quite qualified.”

Isaac laughed nervously, “Okay, I’ll go get the toys. Then you can uh…show me some stuff.”

“ _Stuff_. Yeah.” Stiles said as he watched Isaac walk away.

_This was going to be interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter tomorrow!  
> COMMENT ME SOMETHINGGGG

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yeah! I'm on Tumblr! <http://sexysouralpha.tumblr.com/>


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